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Jo proved to be a singularly tactful hostess.— 169. 



MOLLY BROWN’S 
ORCHARD 
HOME 


BY 

NELL SPEED 

'1 

AUTHOR OF “molly BROWN’S FRESHMAN DAYS,” “MOLLY BROWN’S 
SOPHOMORE DAYS,” “MOLLY BROWN’s JUNIOR DAYS,” “MOLLY 
brown’s senior days,” “molly brown’s POST- 
GRADUATE DAYS,” ETC., ETC. 


WITH FOUR HALF-TONE ILLUSTRATIONS 
BY CHARLES L. WRENN ' 


NEW YORK 

HURST & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright, 1915, 

BY 

HURST & COMPANY 


MAY 17 1915 

©CI,A398862 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Letters . 5 

II. Bon Voyage 17 

III. The Deep Sea ....... 40 

IV. What Molly Overheard . . .55 

V. Paris 73 

VI. La Marquise 88 

VII. The Faubourg ........ 102 

VIII. The Opera 1 14 

IX. The Postscript 129 

X. Bohemia . 144 

XL A Studio Tea in the Latin Quar- 
ter 161 

XII. The Green-eyed Monster . . .176 

XIII. A Julia Kean Scrape .... 190 

XIV. Coals of Fire 207 

XV. Mr. Kinsella^s Indian Summer . 219 

XVI. Apple Blossom Time in Normandy 229 
3 


4 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XVII. The Ghost in the Chapel . . . 245 

XVIII. The Prescription 257 

XIX. Fontainebleau and What Came of 

It 267 

XX. More Letters 281 


XXL Molly Brown’s Orchard Home . 297 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Page 

Jo proved to be a singularly tactful hostess Frontispiece 

Mrs. Brown and her daughter Molly were at last 

safely off ...... . 17 

Held it out to the ancient Shylock . . . 212 

He proceeded to embrace Molly, dish-towel, coffee- 
pot and all ...... . 299 
















Molly Brown’s Orchard Home 


CHAPTER I. 

IvI^TT^RS. 

From Miss Molly Brown of Kentucky to Miss 
Nance Oldham of Vermont. 

Chatsworth, Kentucky. 

My dearest Nance: 

Our passage to Antwerp is really engaged and 
in two weeks Mother and I will be on the water. 
I can hardly believe it is I, Molly Brown, about 
to have this ‘‘great adventure.’' That is what 
Mother and I call this undertaking : “Our great 
adventure.” Mother says it sounds Henry 
Jamesy and I take her word for it (so far I have 
not read that novelist), but he must be very 
interesting, as Mother and Professor Green used 
to discuss him for hours at a time. 

Our going is not quite so happy as we meant 
it to be. Kent can’t come with us as we had 
planned, but will have to stay in Louisville for 
some months, and may not be able to leave at all 

this winter. There is some complication of our 
5 


6 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

affairs, that makes it best for him to be on hand 
until the matter is settled. I remember how in- 
terested you were in the fact that oil was found 
on my mother’s land and that she expected to 
realize an independent income from the sale of 
the land, also pay off the mortgage on Chats- 
worth, our beloved home. Don’t be too uneasy, 
the oil is there all right enough and we shall 
finally get the money, but the arrangement was : 
so much down and the rest when the wells should 
begin operation. 

The first payment Mother used immediately to 
pay the mortgage, but the second payment has 
not been made yet, as Mother’s sister. Aunt Clay, 
living on the adjoining place, has got out an in- 
junction against the Oil Trust as a public nui- 
sance, and all work in the oil land has had to be 
stopped for the time being. The lawyer for the 
Trust told my brother, Paul, that Aunt Clay has 
not a leg to stand on, but of course the law has 
to take its leisurely course, and in the meantime 
the money for Mother is not forthcoming until 
the wells are in operation. Aunt Clay is in her 
element, making everyone as uncomfortable as 
possible and engaged in a foolish lawsuit. She is 
always going to law about something and always 


LETTERS 


7 


losing. We are devoutly thankful that her suit 
is with the Trust and not our Mother, as we 
know that Mother is so constituted she could not 
stand up against a member of her family in a 
lawsuit. I truly believe she would let Aunt Clay 
take the oil lands and all the rest of Chatsworth, 
rather than have a row over it. 

This property, where the oil was found, was 
given to Mother by Aunt Clay when she settled 
up Grandfather Carmichael’s estate. Of course 
she considered the property of no value or she 
would never have let it out of her clutches, and 
as executrix and administratrix of the estate she 
had absolute power. Now that she sees it is 
worth more than all the rest put together, she is 
in such a rage with Mother that it is really ab- 
surd. She does not want us to go to Paris and 
is furious at the idea of Kent’s ''stopping work,” 
as she calls it. She has got out this injunction 
just to keep us from going, I believe, as she is 
intelligent enough to know there is no use in 
trying to get ahead of a mighty Trust, and they 
will have to win in the end ; but she had an idea 
that we would not go unless we had plenty of 
money to have a good time on. She little knows 
our Mother, in spite of being her sister. 


8 


MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 


Mother says she believes it will be more fun 
and easier to economize in Paris than in Ken- 
tucky; and she is as gay as a lark over the pros- 
pect. Kent may be able to come later and take 
that much talked of and longed for course in 
Architecture at the Beaux Arts. In the mean- 
time, he is very busy and, as he says, '‘making 
good with his boss.’’ Mother refuses to discuss 
Aunt Clay’s behavior and actually goes to see her 
as though nothing had happened ; but I know she 
has had many a sleepless night, brooding over her 
sister’s unsisterly act. 

I am longing to see you, dearest Nance, and 
wish you could manage to meet me in New York 
before we sail, but if you can’t, be sure to have 
a letter on the steamer for me. We are going 
on a slow boat to Antwerp. We think the long 
sea trip will be good for Mother, who is tired out 
with all this worry and the work of getting 
Chatsworth in condition to leave; and besides, 
the slow boats are much cheaper. Laurens is 
the name of our boat, sailing from Hoboken. I 
will write you from Paris, where Julia Kean is 
already installed and hard at work on her beloved 
art. 

I am afraid you will think I am horrid about 


LETTERS 


9 


Aunt Clay. Mother says she is the only person 
she ever knew me to feel bitter about. So she 
is, but then she is the only person who was ever 
mean to my beloved Mother. Maybe when my 
hair turns gray I can be as much of a lady as 
Mother is, but so far I am too red-headed to be 
a perfect lady. 

I am going to miss you, Nance, more than I 
can tell you. We have been roommates for five 
years at college, and never once did we have a 
shadow of a disagreement. Of course we occa- 
sionally got in a kind of penumbra. Once I re- 
member when I was touchy because you called 
Professor Edwin Green an oldish person, but my 
pettishness only lasted ^^like a cloud’s flying 
shadow,” and that ought not to count. 

I think you are splendid to make such a happy 
home for your father and I know you are a won- 
derful housekeeper. Please give him my kindest 
regards. Kent drove Mother and me into Louis- 
ville to hear your mother speak at the Equal 
Suffrage Convention. She was simply overpow- 
ering in her arguments, and converted Kent in 
five minutes. I wish Aunt Clay, who is such an 
ardent Anti, had heard her. We were so sorry 
Mrs. Oldham could not come out to Chatsworth 


10 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHARD HOME 

to visit us, but she did not have the time. I must 
stop. I have written two stamps' worth already. 

Ever your devoted friend and roommate in 
heart, 

Molly Brown. 

To Miss Molly Brown, Chats worth, Kentucky, 
from Miss Julia Kean, Paris, France. 

71 Boulevard St. Michel, Paris. 

Molly dear: 

The news that you and your mother are to 
sail in a few weeks threw me into the seventh 
heaven of happiness, — I am already on the sev- 
enth floor of a pension with not much more of 
an elevator than the tower of Babel had. Mam- 
ma and Papa brought me here and installed me 
and then shot off to Turkey, Papa like a comet 
and Mamma like the tail of one, to finish up the 
bridge that has kept them so busy for the last 
year. 

This pension is kept by an American lady and 
is full of Americans. It is rather fun to be here 
for a while, but I am longing for the time to come 
when you will be with me and we can go apart- 
ment hunting, that is, if your mother still thinks 
it will be wiser for us to keep house and not try 


LETTERS 


11 


to board. Of course you will come here first and 
we can take our time about getting settled for 
the winter. Mrs. Pace, the landlady, (but you 
had better not call her that to her face, as she is 
very much the grande dame, with so much blue 
blood she finds it difficult to keep it to herself,) 
wants you to stay all winter with her and has 
many arguments against housekeeping, but Pll 
let her get them ofiF herself to your mother. 

She is looking forward with great interest to 
meeting dear Mrs. Brown, as it seems she knows 
intimately a cousin and old friend of hers, a cer- 
tain Sally Bolling of Kentucky, who is now the 
Marquise d'Ochte, a swell of the Faubourg St. 
Germain, with a chateau in Normandy, family 
ghost, devoted peasantry and what not. I fancy 
your mother has told you of her. It will be great 
fun to meet some of the nobility, I think. 

I am enrolled at the Julien Academy for the 
winter and am going to put in some months of 
hard drawing before I jump into color. I work 
only in the morning and spend the afternoons 
looking at pictures. I am such a sober person 
pacing the long galleries of the Louvre studying 
the wonderful paintings that no one would dream 
I am the harum-scarum I really am. Papa gave 


12 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

me a very serious talking to about how to conduct 
myself in Paris and I find, as usual, his advice is 
excellent. His theory is that any grown woman 
can go anywhere she wants to alone in Paris, pro- 
vided she has some business to attend to and at- 
tends to it. 

Of course Mrs. Pace is merely a nominal chap- 
erone for me until your mother comes. She 
really seldom sees me, and when she does she is 
so full of her own affairs that she hardly remem- 
bers I have any; and then when she recalls that 
she is supposed to be my chaperone, she feels 
called upon to tell me to do my hair differently, 
or she does not like my best hat, or something 
else equally out of her province. But I am not 
going to tell you any more about her, as you can 
judge for yourself when you see her. 

I am sorry your brother, Kent, cannot carry 
out his plan of studying at the Beaux Arts, but 
maybe something will turn up and he can come 
after all. I might have known Aunt Clay would 
obstruct, all she had in her power, but thank 
goodness, her power is limited and your mother 
will finally get the full amount of money for her 
oil lands that Papa thought she should have. As 
for being in Paris without much money, it really 


LETTERS 


13 


is a grand place to be poor in ; and one can have 
more fun here on a franc than in New York on 
a dollar. 

Hug your darling mother for me, and tell Kent 
that I refuse to answer his letters unless he gets 
some thin paper to write on. I am tired of paying 
double extra postage on his bulky epistles. 

Let me know in plenty of time when to expect 
you and your mother, so I can engage the room 
of Mrs. Pace and meet you at the station. I wish 
I could go to Antwerp to be there when you ar- 
rive or even meet you halfway in Brussels, but 
I must put the temptation from me and await 
you quietly in Paris. Good-by, my darling old 
Molly Brown, 

Your own devoted, ever loving 

Judy. 

Steamer letter from Professor Edwin Green 
of Wellington College to Miss Molly Brown of 
Kentucky, sailing on S. S. Laurens, 

Wellington College. 

My dear Miss Molly: 

Surely the ''best laid schemes of mice and men 
gang aft aglee.’’ I feel more like a mouse caught 
in a trap than a man, just now. I have been 


14 


MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 


thinking of nothing else all summer but the de- 
lightful time I should have with you and your 
mother in Paris. It is my sabbatical year at 
Wellington, which means a fine long holiday, one 
much needed and looked forward to by all hard- 
worked professors. But just as I began to pre- 
pare for this delightful trip, I found that my 
substitute had in the most unaccountable man- 
ner, disappointed the President, Miss Walker, 
and Wellington was in a fair way to open with- 
out a professor of English. Of course I had to 
rush to the rescue and here I am in the old grind 
again. 

I really do not mind teaching, enjoy it, in 
fact, but oh, my holiday and those walks and 
jaunts I have been dreaming of in Paris ! Miss 
Walker is deeply grateful to me for helping her 
out of this difficulty, and is doing all in her power 
to find a suitable person to take my place; and 
of course, I, too, am reaching out in every direc- 
tion for help. 

One thing, I do not intend to be like poor 
Jacob: serve seven years more before I get my 
reward. I feel in a way that this is making up 
to the College for the long, enforced holiday two 
years ago, when I was so ill with typhoid fever. 


LETTEKS 


15 


My sister Grace had made her plans to spend 
the winter in New York as she did not expect 
to be needed by me as housekeeper, so I am 
‘'baching’^ again; and very lonesome it is after 
being so spoiled and looked after by Grace. 

The place seems sad and gloomy to me and the 
College is full of raw and unattractive girls. I 
could hardly refrain from throwing a copy of 
Rosetti at a forward miss the other day in class, 
when she attempted to read ‘'The Blessed Damo- 
zeV^ and I remembered a certain little Freshman, 
who, five years ago, held me enthralled by her 
rendering of that wonderful poem. 

I was delighted to see your friend Miss Melissa 
Hathaway, who is a relief indeed, after all of 
these chattering school girls. What a wonderful 
personality she has! Her beauty is even richer 
and more glowing than formerly. She reminds 
me of October in the mountains, her own Ken- 
tucky mountains. Did you ever notice her eyes 
and the quality they possess, which is a very rare 
one: that of seeming to hold the reflection of 
trees and skies when she is indoors? It is as 
though she were still seeing her forests at home. 

I hope to help her a great deal in her English 
as she is afraid this will have to be her last year 


16 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

at college. She feels that she is needed at home 
to carry on the work of her friend and teacher 
Miss Allfriend, whose long and arduous labors 
among the mountain folk have impaired her 
health. Melissa thinks she should take up the 
work and give her friend a rest. Noble girl! 
Dicky Blount thinks so, too, and even more so. 
Did you know that he found or manufactured 
some business in Catlettsburg, Kentucky, last 
summer and surprised Miss Hathaway in her 
mountain fastness? 

Please give my kindest regards to your mother 
and express to her my deep regret that I am not 
to be her cicerone for some of the sights of Paris. 
I am hoping that before the winter is over I may 
be relieved and then, ho, for the fastest steamer 
afloat I 

I am sending you some novels that may amuse 
you both on your voyage ; also, a box of crystal- 
lized ginger that is the very best thing for sea- 
sickness that I know, — ^not that you are to be 
seasick, but just in case. 

I am trying to be cheerful and not let Miss 
Walker see how I am kicking at fate, but I am 
as mad as a schoolboy who has to do chores on 
Saturday! Very sincerely your friend, 

Edwin Green. 



Mrs. Brown and her daughter Molly were at last safely 

off . — Page 17. 






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CHAPTER 11. 


BON VOYAGE. 

Mrs. Brown and her daughter Molly were at 
last safely off on what they called their ''great 
adventure.’^ They had waved their handker- 
chiefs until the dock at Hoboken was nothing 
more than a blur to them and they felt sure that 
the Laurens was little more than a speck to the 
friends that had turned up to see them off. 

Molly’s classmates at Wellington College, 
Katherine and Edith Williams, Edith with the 
nice, new husband whom Molly was overjoyed 
to meet, had appeared, bearing books and candy 
for the trip. Jimmy Lufton, of course, just to 
show that there was no hard feeling, as he whis- 
pered to Molly, was there, also, doing everything 
for their comfort; finding their luggage; engag- 
ing the steamer chairs ; seeing to it that the stew- 
ardess understood about the baths before break- 
fast; and attending to many things of the im- 
portance of which Molly and her mother were 
ignorant. 


17 


18 MOLLY BKOWN^S OECHAKD HOME 

Richard Blount, too, had turned up ten min- 
utes before sailing, but he had managed to get 
in a word with Molly about Melissa Hathaway. 

‘'She is a queen among women. Miss Molly, 
and I consider that Edwin Green is a lucky dog 
to have the privilege of teaching her. To think 
of seeing her day after day and hearing her read 
poetry with that wonderful voice! He tells me 
she is the most remarkable reader he has ever 
known. I am too fond of old Ed to hate him, 
otherwise I should find it easy. By the way I 
have left something in care of the steward for 
you and your mother as a cure for seasickness. 
You will find that there is nothing like it!'’ 

“Oh, thank you so much! I feel sure that I 
shall not be sick, but I am just as obliged as 
though I were going to be. Mother may be. 
You see we have never been on the ocean in our 
lives, but we have always felt that we would like 
it beyond anything, and that liking it so much 
would keep us from being harmed by it," Molly 
had answered, a little chagrined at what Richard 
Blount had had to say about Professor Green 
and Melissa, but determined not to show it to 
that young man or to let herself think there was 
anything in it. 


BON VOYAGE 


19 


Miss Grace Green and dear, good Mary Stew- 
art had been on the steamer waiting when Molly 
and her mother came aboard. Their devotion to 
Molly was so apparent that they won Mrs. 
Brown’s heart at once, and that charming lady 
with her cordial manner and gracious bearing as 
usual made Molly’s friends hers. 

Miss Green had had a little private talk with 
Molly, giving her messages from her younger 
brother, Dodo, and telling her what she knew of 
Professor Edwin’s disappointment in having to 
go on with his duties for the time being at least. 
Molly had not had a chance to open and read the 
steamer letter he had written her, but was forced 
to postpone it until the vessel sailed and she 
could compose herself after the flurry of good- 
bys and the bustle of the departure. 

There were many letters waiting in the cabin, 
but the harbor was so fascinating to these two 
women who had done so little traveling, that they 
could not tear themselves from the deck until 
they were out of sight of land. 

"'Mother, isn’t it too lovely and aren’t we going 
to be the happiest pair on earth? I am glad we 
are seeing the ocean for the first time together, 
because you know exactly how I feel and I know 


20 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 

how you feel. The idea of our being seasick! 
Richard Blount sent some remedy to the steamer 
for us, just in case we were seasick. It was 
very kind of him but absolutely unnecessary, I 
am sure. I never felt better in my life and look, 
there is quite a little swell.’’ 

''Seasick indeed! I have no more feeling of 
sickness than I have on the Ohio River at home,” 
said Mrs. Brown, taking deep breaths of the 
bracing salt air. "I suspect it is incumbent upon 
us to go read our letters now, but I must say I 
do not want to miss one moment on deck during 
our entire voyage. I feel as though twenty years 
had dropped off me.” And indeed she looked it, 
too, with a pretty pink in her cheeks and her 
wavy hair blown about her face. 

Molly rather wanted to read Professor Green’s 
letter first, but she put it aside and opened those 
from Nance Oldham and several other college 
mates. Then she discovered a thoroughly char- 
acteristic note from Aunt Clay, dry and dicta- 
torial but enclosing a check for ten dollars on 
Monroe & Co., the Paris bankers. "For you and 
your extravagant mother to spend on foolish- 
ness,” wrote that stern lady. 

"Oh, Mother! Isn’t she hateful? How easy 


BON VOYAGE 


21 


it would have been to send a pleasant message 
with the check! Now all the fun of having it is 
gone and I have a great mind to send it back 1'^ 

‘‘No, my dear, don't do that. Your Aunt Clay 
does not mean to be as unkind as she seems. 
I know she intended this check as a kind of peace 
offering to me, and we must take it as she meant 
it and pay no attention to her words." 

“Mother, you are an angel and I have to hug 
you right here in the cabin, even if that black- 
eyed man over there with the pile of telegrams 
in front of him is looking a hole through us." 

She suited the action to the word and Mrs. 
Brown, emerging from the bear hug that Molly 
was prone to give, surprised a smile on the dark 
face of their fellow traveler. He was seated 
across from them at the same table behind a pile 
of telegrams a foot high, and was very busy open- 
ing the messages, making notes on them as he 
read. He was an interesting looking man with 
dark, fathomless eyes, swarthy complexion and 
iron gray hair, but he bore a youthful look that 
made one feel he had not the right of years to 
the gray hair. His expression was gloomy and 
not altogether pleasant, but when he smiled he 
displayed a row of dazzling white teeth and his 


22 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

€yes lost the sad look and held the smile long 
after his mouth had closed with a determined 
click. 

‘‘ "Duty before pleasure/ as King Richard said 
when he killed the old king before a-smothering 
of the babies/^ said Molly as she finished Aunt 
Clay's letter and opened Edwin Green's. What 
a nice letter it was to be sure! She laughed 
aloud over his wanting to throw Rosetti at the 
girl and blushed with pleasure at the compliment 
to her reading of the blessed Damozel, for well 
she knew whom he had in mind. His praise of 
Melissa would have merely pleased her as praise 
of her friends always did, had she not already 
been somewhat disturbed by what Dicky Blount 
had said to her of Professor Edwin Green and 
the beautiful mountain girl. 

""I am a silly girl and intend to put all such 
foolish notions out of my head," declared Molly 
to herself. ""Surely Professor Green has as much 
right to make friends as I have, and I intend to 
know as many people and like as many as I can. 
I am not the least bit in love with Edwin Green, — 
but somehow I don't think he and Melissa are 
suited to one another." 

As the young girl sat reading over her letter, 


BON VOYAGE 


23 


a feeling of sadness and loneliness took posses- 
sion of her and, looking up, she surprised a fur- 
tive tear in her mother’s eye. Mrs. Brown was 
reading a letter from her married daughter Mil- 
dred, then living in Iowa where her husband 
Crittenden Rutledge was at work as a bridge en- 
gineer. 

The cabin had begun to fill with people who 
were leaving decks and staterooms to hunt up 
their letters and belongings and generally pre- 
pare themselves for a ten-day trip on the At- 
lantic. 

''Mother, they say this is a small steamer, but 
it seems huge to me ! Did you ever see so many 
strange people? I don’t believe we ever shall 
know any of them. They all of them look at 
home and I feel so far from home. Don’t you?” 

"Now, Molly, please don’t get blue or I shall 
have to weep outright. Of course we shall come 
to know most of the passengers and no doubt will 
find many charming persons ready to know and 
like us. Suppose we hurry up with our letters 
and go on deck again.” 

Just then a young man bounded into the cabin, 
made a hasty survey of the crowd and came rap- 


24 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHAED HOME 

idly over to the dark gentleman seated opposite 
them. 

"'Oh, Uncle Tom, how can you stay down in 
this stuffy cabin ? There is a sunset on the water 
that is just screaming out to be looked at As 
for that work, you have ten days to attend to 
those tiresome telegrams and letters.^^ 

"Nonsense, Pierce, I have no idea of waiting 
ten days for this important business. You for- 
get the wireless,” answered the uncle, looking 
fondly at the enthusiastic young fellow, who was 
so like him except for the gray hair that it was 
almost ludicrous. 

"Oh, goodness gracious me, where is your 
holiday to be, with you tied to your Mother 
Country with a stringless apron? That is what 
that old wireless telegraphy reminds me of,” 
laughed the young man, showing all his perfect 
teeth. "Well, Fve got your chair and steamer 
rug all ready for you and all you have to do is 
come sit in it.” 

"Now, Pierce, don’t wait on me. Part of hav- 
ing a holiday is to forget how old I am. When I 
get these telegrams off, I am going to show you 
how skittish I can be and forget all about busi- 
ness. I fancy you will have to hold me back in 


BON VOYAGE 


25 


my race for a good time. This limerick is to be 
my motto : 

‘'Said this long-legged daddy of Troy, 
‘Although Fm no longer a boy, 

I bet I can show 
You chaps how to go.’ 

Which he did to his own savage joy.’ ” 

Mrs. Brown and Molly could not help over- 
hearing this conversation and at the above lim- 
erick they laughed outright. The young man 
called Pierce looked at them with a friendly 
glance and the uncle smiled another of his rare 
smiles, which made the ladies from Kentucky 
feel that the ocean was not going to be such a 
terribly lonesome place after all. They gathered 
up their belongings and made their way on deck 
to view the sunset that was “screaming to be 
looked at.” 

“It really is worth seeing, isn’t it. Mother? 
Somehow, though, I never do like to be made 
to look at a sunset. The persons who insist on 
your doing it always seem to have a kind of 
proprietary air. Now that young man wanted 
to bulldoze his uncle into coming when — 

when ” Molly stopped suddenly, realizing 

that the two men in great-coats, with the collars 


26 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

turned up to their ears, who had taken their 
places at the railing next to her mother, were no 
other than the two in question. 

‘'You are perfectly right, madam,’^ said the 
elder, raising his hat. “This nephew of mine is 
always doing it. Now I should much rather 
come on deck when the sun is down and see the 
after-glow. The crepuscule appeals to me more 
than the brilliancy of the sunset.’" 

“I fancy my daughter had no complaint to 
make of the brilliancy of the color, but of being 
coerced into looking at it. She likes to be the 
discoverer herself and the one to make others 
come to look. Isn’t it so, Molly?” 

“Maybe it is,” said Molly blushing. “I did 
not really mean much of anything and was just 
talking for talk’s sake.” 

“Anyhow,” spoke the nephew, “this sunset is 
mine and I think it is beautiful and all of you 
have simply got to look at it.” Turning to 
Molly, “You can have to-morrow’s and make us 
look all you want to, but this is my discovery.” 

The ice was broken and Molly and her mother 
made their first acquaintances on their travels. 
Mr. Kinsella introduced himself and his nephew 
Pierce and in the course of half an hour they 


BON VOYAGE 


27 


were all good steamer friends. Everyone must 
make up his or her mind to be ready to make 
friends on a steamer or to have a very stupid, 
lonesome crossing. Mrs. Brown and Molly were 
both too sociable and friendly to be guilty of such 
standoffishness and were as pleased at making 
friends with the two Kinsellas as those gentlemen 
were to secure such pleasant companions as these 
ladies were proving themselves to be. 

'We are all of us to be at the captain's table," 
said Pierce. 

"And how do you know where we are to be?" 
asked Molly. "I don't know myself where we are 
to sit, and how can you know?" 

"Oh, that is easy. While you and your mother 
and Uncle Tom were busy reading your letters 
and before I got my sunset ready, I was finding 
out things like Rikki-tikki. First I got the stew- 
ard's list and located the Kinsellas at mess ; then 
I looked over all the names and where the people 
hailed from and decided that Miss Molly Brown 
of Kentucky sounded kind of cheerful. And 
when I knew there was a Mrs. Brown along, too, 
I decided that Miss Molly Brown was young 
enough to have a mother along and the mother 
was young enough to be along, and you were 


28 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

more than likely a pretty nice couple to cultivate. 
The steward told me you were to be at the cap- 
tain’s table, too, as you were friends of Miss 
Mary Stewart. Her father owns much stock in 
these nice old tubs of steamers, and the daughter 
had made a special request that you should be 
very well looked after.” 

*Tsn’t that too like Mary? She did not say 
one word about it. That accounts for our hav- 
ing such a lovely stateroom to ourselves, too. 
We had engaged a stateroom that was supposed 
to hold three persons. The company had the 
privilege of putting someone else in with us, and 
as the steamer is quite full, of course we had ex- 
pected to have a roommate. We hated the 
thought of it, too, but it was so much less expen- 
sive. And Mother and I hoped to spend most of 
our time on deck, anyhow. We could not under- 
stand the number not being the same as that on 
our tickets, but thought the officials knew best 
and if we did not belong there they would oust 
us in good time.” 

^Well, I am jolly glad you have the best state- 
room on board. Uncle tried to get it but had to 
content himself with second best.” 

‘'Are you seasick, as a rule? I do hope not,” 


BON VOYAGE 


29 


asked the young man of Mrs. Brown, who had 
been conversing with Mr. Kinsella while the 
nephew and Molly were making friends. 

‘‘No, we don’t make it a rule to be any kind of 
sick ; but my daughter and I are on the ocean for 
the first time. In fact, we are really seeing the 
ocean for the first time and do not know how we 
are to behave. So far we feel as well as possible, 
but I fancy such a smooth sea is no test.’’ 

“Only fancy, Uncle Tom, what it must seem 
to see the ocean for the first time ! I almost wish 
I had never seen it until now, just for the sen- 
sation.” 

“There was a superior New York girl at Wel- 
lington College who had a great time trying to 
tease me because I had never seen the ocean. 
She kept it up so long that I began to feel like a 
‘po’ nigger at a frolic’, so I retaliated by asking 
her if she had ever been to a hanging. I com- 
pletely took the wind out of her sails, and then 
confessed that I hadn’t either,” said Molly with 
a laugh. 

“Good for you. Miss Brown, give it to him. 
New York people are certainly very superior in 
their own estimation and need a good taking 
down every now and then. They are often more 


30 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

provincial than villagers, with no excuse for so 
being,’" and Mr. Kinsella gave his nephew an 
affectionate push. 

The air was clear and crisp, with a rising 
wind that gave promise of a heavy sea. The 
passengers had begun to fill the decks, dragging 
steamer chairs into sheltered nooks and looking 
about for desirable places out of the wind, where 
they could see the sun set and the moon rise, get 
out of the way of the smokestacks, the fog horn 
and the whistle, and at the same time be in a 
good locality to see everything that was going 
on. Molly and her mother were much amused 
at the sight. They were both inclined to be 
rather careless of their ease and it had never 
entered their heads to hustle and bustle to make 
themselves comfortable on the trip. 

''Yimmy Lufton has had our chairs placed on 
deck and lashed to the railing. He said he knew 
we would never look out for ourselves, and un- 
less he saw to it, we would go abroad standing 
up or sitting on the floor ! He tagged our chairs, 
too, as our names were on the backs only. He 
said there were always some ‘chair hogs’ who 
would push the chairs against the wall with the 


BON VOYAGE 


31 


name out of sight and refuse to budge/' said 
Molly. 

''Where are your chairs ?" asked Pierce. "Let’s 
go find them and afterward we can get Uncle’s 
and mine and have a snug foursome of a chat. 
Oh, Miss Brown, how lovely your mother is ! I 
want to paint her ; but I should have to put you in 
the picture, too, so that I could catch the wonder- 
ful expression on her face. It is when she is 
looking at you that she is most lovely.” 

"Well, don’t you think I could be present to 
inspire the desired expression without being in 
the picture?” laughed Molly, delighted by the 
praise of her beloved motlier. "But can you 
paint? I have been wondering what you are and 
what your uncle is, but I did not like to be too 
inquisitive.” 

"Well, one does not have to be with me long 
to hear the story of my life,” said the boy. "You 
ask if I can paint: yes, I can paint; not as well 
as I want to by a long shot, but I mean to be a 
great painter. That sounds conceited, but it is 
not. I have talent and there is no use in being 
mealy-mouthed over it. To be a great painter 
means work, work, work; and I am prepared to 
do that with every breath I breathe. Painting 


32 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

isn't work to me; it is joy and life. Besides, I 
mean to make it up to Uncle for his disappoint- 
ment in life, and the only way I can do it is by 
succeeding." 

Molly was dying to know more about the uncle 
and what his disappointment was, but she was 
too well bred to show her desire and Pierce did 
not seem inclined to go on with his family dis- 
closures. He stood looking at two ladies who 
had just come on deck, followed by a maid carry- 
ing rugs and cushions. The ladies were a very 
handsome mother and daughter, although the 
mother appeared too young to have such a very 
sophisticated, grown-up daughter. They were 
beautifully dressed in long fur coats and small 
toques. ‘'Rather warm for October," thought 
Molly, but the rising cold wind soon made her 
know her mistake. 

“There are our chairs," said Molly, starting 
toward the railing where the ever handy-man, 
Jimmy, had lashed the two steamer chairs. 

At the same moment the elegant, fur-clad lady 
rapidly crossed the deck and placing her hand 
on the back of the nearest chair, said in a cold 
and haughty tone to the maid: “Here, Marie, 


BON VOYAGE 


33 


place the rugs and cushions in these chairs. 
They will do quite nicely.’’ 

'‘Excuse me, but these chairs are ours, mine 
and my mother’s,” said Molly. "But we are not 
going to use them until after supper, I mean 
dinner, so you. are welcome to them until then.” 

"Some mistake surely,” rejoined the older 
woman, eying Molly scornfully through her lorg- 
nette. "You will have to complain to the steward 
if you cannot find your chairs, young woman; 
these are mine, engaged and paid for.” With 
that, she prepared to seat herself with the help 
of the maid, who was blushing furiously, morti- 
fied by the flagrant untruth of her mistress. 

Molly was, by nature, easy-going and peace- 
loving and her inclination was to leave the 
haughty dame in possession of the chairs and 
beat a hasty retreat ; but she remembered Jimmy 
Lufton’s remark about "chair hogs” and a joking 
promise she had made him to stand up for her 
mother if not for herself, so she braced herself 
for battle. Despite her girlish face and figure, 
Molly Brown could command as much dignity 
as any member of the Four Hundred. 

With a polite smile and gently modulated voice 
she said, very calmly and firmly: "Madam, as 


34 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

I said before, these are my chairs but you are 
quite welcome to them until after dinner. If 
you have any doubt about it, you will find our 
names on the backs ; but to save you the trouble 
of moving to look behind you, if you will be so 
kind as to glance at these tags you can verify 
my statement.’’ 

''Oh, I did not dream I was to call forth such a 
tirade,” yawned the nonplussed woman, reading 
the tags: " 'Mrs. M. Brown, Kentucky; Miss M. 
Brown, Kentucky.’ If you are not going to use 
the chairs until after dinner, my daughter and I 
will just gtay in them until other arrangements 
can be made. These small steamers are wretch- 
edly managed. I can’t imagine where our chairs 
are. Elise,” calling to her daughter, "it seems 
these are not our chairs, after all.” 

"Well, I did not think they could be, as these 
chairs seem real enough and ours are entirely 
imaginary,” answered the daughter rudely. 
"Mother, this is Mr. Kinsella, whom I have 
known at the Art Students’ League. My mother, 
Mrs. Huntington, Mr. Kinsella.” 

"I am so glad to meet you, Mrs. Huntington. 
Your daughter. Miss O’Brien, and I have been 
working in the same costume class at the League. 


BON VOYAGE 35 

I did not dream she was to be on this boat and 
when I saw her come on deck I thought I was 
seeing ghosts/’ 

Pierce had come eagerly forward to meet the 
mother of the interesting girl he had known and 
liked at the art school; but Mrs. Huntington 
looked as though she, too, were seeing ghosts. 
She shrank back in her down pillows and her 
face became pinched and pale, and it was a mo- 
ment before the hardened woman of the world 
could command her voice to return the greeting 
of the young man. 

^'Kinsella, did you say? Could you be Tom 
Kinsella’s son? You are strangely like him.” 

''Thank you, madam, for that. There is no one 
I want to be like so much as my Uncle Tom. I 
am his nephew; my uncle has never married. 
Did you know my uncle? He is on board and I 
know would be glad to renew his acquaintance 
with you. But let me introduce Miss Brown to 
both of you.” 

The two girls shook hands, and as they looked 
in each other’s eyes, Molly felt in her heart an 
instinctive liking for the older girl. There was 
something honest and straight about her face 
despite the rather sullen expression of her mouth. 


36 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

She was beautiful, besides, and beauty always 
appealed to Molly, — almost always, at least, for 
although Mrs. Huntington was beautiful, too, 
Molly felt no leaning toward her. Mother and 
daughter looked enough alike to make it not dif- 
ficult to guess the relationship at the first glance ; 
but the more one saw of them, the fainter grew 
the resemblance. The older woman was smaller, 
fairer and plumper; her hair was golden while 
the daughter’s was light brown; her complexion' 
pink and white, the daughter’s rather sallow ; her 
eyes baby blue, the other’s gray green. But the 
daughter’s features were more pronounced and 
her well-cut chin and mouth showed character 
and pride, while the mother’s looked a little petu- 
lant. 

‘T am very glad to meet you. Miss Brown. I 
believe I have heard of you. Aren’t you Julia 
Kean’s ‘Molly’?” And Elise O’Brien gave 
Molly’s hand a little squeeze. 

“Of course I am. To think of your knowing 
my Judy ! You must have met her at the League. 
Perhaps you knew her, too, Mr. Kinsella.” 

“Who ? Miss Kean ? I should say I did. She 
was the life of the outdoor sketch club we got 
up; and believe me, she has a soul for color. 


BON VOYAGE 


37 


Why, that little ‘postage stamp landscape’ she 
had in the American Artists’ Exhibition was a 
winner. Did you see a memory sketch she did for 
the final exhibition at the League? It was a tall 
girl in black standing up singing and a beautiful 
red-headed girl in diaphanous blue playing an 
accompaniment on a guitar, with a background 
of holly and a great bunch of mistletoe at one 
side.” Pierce stopped suddenly in the midst of 
his description of Judy’s picture and, gazing in- 
tently at Molly, cried out, “By the great jumping 
jingo, if Miss Brown isn’t the red-headed girl in 
diaphanous blue!” j 

“Yes, I saw it,” exclaimed Elise, “and thought 
it was wonderfully clever. Miss Kean got a 
splendid likeness of you, considering it was from 
memory.” 

“Oh, Judy has sketched me until she says doing 
me is almost as easy as writing her name. That 
must have been the Christmas party at Profes- 
sor Green’s when Melissa Hathaway was sing- 
ing ‘The Mistletoe Bough.’ I remember Judy sat 
opposite us and I almost laughed out because she 
kept making pictures in the air with her thumb, 
which is a habit of hers when anything appeals to 
her as paintable. Won’t it be splendid to see her 


38 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 

again? Are you both going to Paris? You 
know Judy is there now and my mother and I are 
to join her/' 

‘'Glorious !" exclaimed the enthusiastic Pierce. 
“Of course I am going there ; but how about you. 
Miss O'Brien?" 

“Oh, I am to be there for a while, but my art 
is not considered seriously enough for me to 
stick at it long enough to accomplish much. 
Mother thinks Paris is nothing but one big shop, 
and when she has bought all the clothes we are 
supposed not to be able to be decent without, we 
have to go on. I am going to work while she 
shops. Thank goodness, she is so fussy that it 
takes her twice as long to get an outfit as it 
would anyone else, so I shall have time to get in 
some work," answered the girl bitterly. 

Just then the gong was sounded for dinner. 
There was a general movement toward the saloon 
and the growing darkness prevented Molly from 
seeing the resentment on the face of Mrs. Hunt- 
ington, if resentment she held, at the daughter's 
rudeness toward her. 

“Such a nice girl," thought Molly, “and so 
clever and beautiful ! But how, how can she be 
so horrid to her mother? There is no telling 


BON VOYAGE 


39 


what provocation she has, though. Her mother 
was certainly not honest about the chairs; but 
then, your mother is your mother. Thank good- 
ness, Aunt Clay is not mine V 

Molly hastened to her own mother’s side and 
they made their way to the first meal on board. 


CHAPTER III. 


THE DEEP SEA. 

Such a pleasant bustle, as the passengers came 
streaming into the cabin! Everyone seemed to 
have made or met some friend, with the excep- 
tion of a few shy-looking, lonesome persons, and 
Molly devoutly hoped that these would find some 
congenial souls before very long and not be so 
forlorn. She and her mother had made such a 
fine beginning in the way of pleasant acquaint- 
ances that she wished the same good luck to all 
on board. 

Their seats were next to the Captain, with Mr. 
Kinsella and Pierce opposite. The Captain was 
just what a captain ought to be : big and hearty, 
blond and bearded, with a booming laugh. 'Xike 
a Viking of old,’’ whispered Molly to her mother. 

''Good sailor, madam?” asked the Captain of 
Mrs. Brown. 

"A Mississippi steamboat is the only test I 
have given myself so far, but my daughter and 
I are hoping we will prove good sailors,” an- 
40 


THE DEEP SEA 


41 


swered his neighbor. ‘We are evidently ex- 
pected to be sick by our friends, as several of 
them have sent us remedies. Champagne from 
one, crystallized ginger from another and a box 
of big black pills from a third that look for all 
the world like shoe buttons.’’ 

‘Well, don’t trust to any of them. If you are 
sick, get on deck all you can and don’t waste 
your champagne on seasickness, but get ginger 
ale, which is much cheaper and quite as effective,” 
boomed the Captain with a laugh that made the 
glasses rattle. 

Molly wished they would stop talking about 
seasickness ! The food looked good. A plate of 
cream celery soup had just been placed in front 
of her. It seemed all that celery soup should 
be, but a qualm had suddenly arisen in her soul, 
(at least she called it her soul,) and she decided 
to let the soup go and wait for the next course. 

“Uncle Tom, I have met an old friend of 
yours on board ; also an acquaintance of my own 
from the Art Students’ League,” said Pierce as 
soon as the business of eating was well under 
way. 

“Is that so? I’ll bet on you for nosing around 


43 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD ^OME 

to find out things ! Who is the gentleman V in- 
quired Mr. Kinsella. 

''Gentleman much! It’s a lady, and a very 
beautiful lady at that, who complimented you 
greatly by saying you looked like me,” laughed 
the boy. "Her name is Mrs. Huntington.” 

"Huntington? I know no one of that name 
that I can remember. She must be some casual 
acquaintance who has slipped from my memory.” 

"Well, maybe, — anyhow, she called you Tom. 
Her daughter. Miss Elise O’Brien, is my friend.” 

Mr. Kinsella’s face flushed and his somber 
eyes lit up with what Molly thought an angry 
light. 

"So,” he muttered, "she has married again. 
Yes, yes, my boy, I — I did know a Miss Lizzie 
Peck in my youth who married an old friend 
of mine, George O’Brien. I have not seen or 
heard of them for years and did not know George 
was dead. I shall take great pleasure in meet- 
ing his little girl.” 

"Little! She is as tall as Miss Brown, who 
is certainly not stumpy, and is some years older, 
if I am any judge of the fair sex.” 

"Of course you are a judge of the fair sex, a 
most competent one, I should say. What boy of 


THE DEEP SEA 


43 


eighteen is not?” teased his uncle. 'Where are 
your new acquaintances seated?” 

"They are at the other end of the next table 
with their backs to us. You will have to rubber 
a little to get a good view of them.” 

Mr. Kinsella accordingly "rubbered,” as his 
slangy nephew put it, and satisfied himself of the 
identity of Mrs. Huntington. Molly was greatly 
interested in the occurrence. Mr. Kinsella was 
different from anyone she had ever seen before 
and Pierce’s hint of a disappointed life had fired 
her imagination, ever ready for a romance. She 
had a feeling that the proud, beautiful, incon- 
siderate woman whose acquaintance she had re- 
cently made was in some way connected with 
Mr. Kinsella’s disappointment. 

Soup was removed and the next course of 
baked bluefish brought on. Molly’s senses 
reeled and a drowsy numbness stole over her. 
"What a strange feeling! What on earth is the 
matter with me? I was so hungry when I came 
down here and now I can’t touch a thing,” she 
said to herself. 

Mr. Kinsella was watching her and finally 
spoke : 


44 MOLLY BBOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

'‘My dear Miss Brown, let me take you on 
deck. You will feel much better in the air.’’ 

"Why, my darling daughter, are you sick?” in- 
quired the anxious mother, who was eating her 
dinner with the greatest enjoyment. 

"I believe I’ll go to bed,” gasped poor Molly. 
"But don’t you come. Mother. I’ll be better in 
a minute.” 

A grim smile went down the Captain’s table 
as Molly beat a hasty and ignominious retreat. 
Mrs. Huntington was heard to remark to her 
daughter as a white and hollow-eyed Molly flew 
past their chairs on the way to her stateroom: 
"There goes that red-headed girl from Kentucky, 
who was so rude to me on deck. I fancy we can 
occupy her chairs for a while longer.” 

"Oh, Mamma, why do we not have chairs of 
our own? It is so embarrassing to sponge on 
other people all the time, and the expense of 
chairs is not very great,” implored Elise. 

"Nonsense, Elise ; I have crossed the ocean in- 
numerable times and never get chairs. There 
are always enough seasick people who have to 
stay in their bunks, and since I abhor waste, I 
use their chairs. As you say, the expense is not 
very great, but if I do not save in small ways 


THE DEEP SEA 


45 


I cannot make ends meet and keep up appear- 
ances and that is most important, until you see 
fit to catch a husband/^ 

All this was in an aside to her daughter, who 
seemed accustomed to such remarks and coolly 
helped herself to stuffed mangoes without deign- 
ing any reply. But after brooding a few seconds 
she spoke : 

‘'Do you think that the chair episode on deck 
before dinner was ‘keeping up appearances’ very 
well?” 

“And so you have your eye on young Mr. Kin- 
sella, have you?” 

“Not at all. Mamma, and you know I haven’t. 
In the first place, Pierce Kinsella is years younger 
than I am, and while he is tremendously clever 
with his brush, he is not the intellectual man I 
must have or do without.” 

“Never mind your age. If you do not mind 
being frank on the subject, you must have some 
consideration for me, who am your unwilling 
mother. No one will ever believe I was a mere 
school girl when I married George O’Brien. If 
I should not keep up appearances for young Kin- 
sella, who was it, please? Surely not that Miss 
Smith!” 


46 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

‘^Miss Brown, Mamma, Molly Brown. She is 
a lovely girl and a perfect lady; and what will 
have more weight with you, she is a friend of 
the Stewarts. Pierce Kinsella told me it was at 
Mr. Stewart’s request that she and her mother 
were put next to the Captain and they have the 
best stateroom the ship affords.” 

‘'Ah, dead-heads, I surmise.” 

“Not at all. They had their tickets and state- 
room engaged and did not know of the honor 
done them until Pierce Kinsella told them him- 
self. I fancy we are the only dead-heads on 
board.” 

“Elise, I will not have you be so cynical. Mr. 
Stewart is a connection of mine and I am en- 
titled to some consideration from him,” snapped 
the mother. 

“Yes, I know, a very close connection: Mr. 
Huntington’s first wife’s cousin-in-law. For 
that reason, you must have transportation free 
on a line of steamers Mr. Stewart is interested 
in ; but you had to send me to ask for the favor, 
and I’ll tell you now what I did not tell you be- 
fore for fear of hurting your feelings, that Mr. 
Stewart said he was glad to do it for my sake.’^ 

The last was a poser for the angry woman, and 


THE DEEP SEA 


47 


mother and daughter ceased their wrangling and 
devoted themselves to the very good dinner. 

Poor Molly got to bed as best she could and 
stayed there twenty- four hours. She was sure 
her seasickness was the worst that had ever been 
known, but we all feel that. On the second day 
she was persuaded to go on deck by her solicitous 
mother, — who, by the way, was not uncomfort- 
able one minute, — and as she dropped limply into 
her steamer chair, carefully arranged for her by 
the Kinsellas, she for the first time had a desire 
to live. The ocean was a wonderful color, all 
pearly gray with little flecks of pink on top of 
every wave. The sun was setting in a mist. The 
wind had died down and there was a delicious 
dampness in the air that smelt of salt. 

‘‘Oh, how glad I am to get up here! All of 
you are so good to me. It seems a year since I 
went to my stateroom and I believe it is only a 
day and a night. Has anything happened since I 
disappeared 

“Nothing, ’’ answered Pierce. “The sun and 
the ship have moved but the rest of us have just 
stood still waiting for you to come back. By the 
way, this is your sunset, you remember. You 


48 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

forgot to advertise it, so you have not a very 
large audience/’ 

''Well, if Miss Brown can get up that good a 
show without even trying, what couldn’t she ac- 
complish if she put her mind on it? I believe I 
like yours better than Pierce’s,” said Mr. Kin- 
sella. "His was so flamboyant, while yours has 
a certain reserve and distinction.” 

The conversation went gayly on between uncle 
and nephew while Mrs. Brown hovered over her 
daughter, tucking in the rug and shifting the 
pillows for more perfect comfort. Molly smiled 
a little wanly at first but soon the good air and 
gay talk got in their perfect work, and before she 
knew it she was laughing outright at some of 
Pierce’s sallies. The color began to come back 
into her cheeks. A desire for life grew stronger 
and stronger. Mr. Kinsella noticed the change 
in the girl, and while Mrs. Brown and Pierce 
were engaged in an animated discussion on 
Woman’s Suffrage, Pierce taking the Anti side 
"just for practice,” he slipped away and soon re- 
turned with a tray of dainty food. 

"Please eat a little something now. Miss 
Brown. It will put new life in you and I feel 
sure you are on the mend and can trust yourself 


THE DEEP SEA 


49 


to take some nourishment. Chicken aspic and 
dry toast can’t hurt you, and I feel sure it will 
do you good.” 

‘‘Why, Mr. Kinsella, you are too good to me! 
How did you know I was hungry? I was 
ashamed to say so, but I felt that a little food 
was all that was needed to make me perfectly 
well.” And Molly fell to with an avidity that 
surprised her mother, who had not been able to 
persuade her to take a mouthful all day. 

“I have seen seasick persons before now,” 
laughed Mr. Kinsella, “and know by experience 
that there is a crucial moment when food must 
be administered, and then the patient gets well 
immediately. I noticed you were laughing, and 
no one with maUde-mer can laugh! And then 
your color came back, and that is a signal for 
food, too. I am so glad you like what I brought 
you.” 

“Mr. Kinsella, I cannot tell you how grateful 
I am,” said Mrs. Brown. “I don’t wish you to 
be seasick, but I do wish Molly and I could repay 
your kindness in some way.” 

“My dear lady, I am already in your debt for 
permitting my scape-grace nephew and me to 
know you and your daughter. I have had my 


50 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

nose at the grindstone of business for so many 
years that I feared it had grown out of my 
power to make new friends; but I begin to see 
that I have not lost the knack. Perhaps my 
somber presence is tolerated because of my gay, 
jolly boy,’’ and Mr. Kinsella gazed rather wist- 
fully after Pierce, who had crossed the deck to 
meet Elise O’Brien, just emerging from the 
cabin. 

''Oh, Mr. Kinsella, you must not think that,-” 
eagerly implored Molly. "I always like serious 
men better than boys, and besides you are not 
somber but full of gaiety and jokes. You are 
not fair to yourself if you think people like you 
only on account of Pierce. He is a delightful boy, 
but ” 

"But what?” 

"Don’t press her too far, Mr. Kinsella,” 
laughed Mrs. Brown. "She has already con- 
fessed to a penchant to seriousness and finds 
'beauty in extreme old age’,” and pinching 
Molly’s blushing cheek, she went over to join a 
group of recently made acquaintances who were 
looking at a distant sail through an overworked 
spyglass belonging to one of the tourists. 

"What a tease Mother is! But she looks so 


THE DEEP SEA 


51 


like my brother Kent when she teases me that I 
don’t mind. Kent is always teasing and the only 
reason I can stand it is that it makes him look 
like Mother ! You see, Kent is my special beloved 
brother and you know what my mother is.” 

‘'Yes, I know,” answered Mr. Kinsella, who 
had sunk into the chair vacated by Mrs. Brown. 
“Your mother is a rare woman: beautiful and 
honest and tolerant, charming and well-bred, 
broad-minded and cultured. Eternal youth is in 
her heart, but she has a character gracefully to 
accept the years that Providence has allotted her 
and that only serve to make her more lovely. I 
have no patience with the assumption of extreme 
youth in the middle-aged, despite the limerick I 
have taken for my motto.” 

“But, Mr. Kinsella, you are not middle-aged,” 
protested Molly. “I never even think of Mother 
as being middle-aged. I think that is the ugliest 
word in our language, except, maybe, stout. Pd 
a great deal rather be called fat and forty than 
stout and middle-aged !” 

“Well, it will be many a year before you will 
be called either, and by that time you may change 
your mind. ‘A rose by any other name would 
smell as sweet,’ and, after all, it is being stout and 


52 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

middle-aged that makes the difference, not being 
called it/’ 

While Molly was having the little chat with 
Mr. Kinsella, Mrs. Huntington had come on deck 
and had approached them from behind. Look- 
ing up, Molly surprised on her face an expression 
of extreme bitterness, and she wondered if she 
had overheard Mr. Kinsella’s views on the sub- 
ject of the assumption of youth in the middle- 
aged. 'H do hope she didn’t,” thought Molly. 
‘‘She is so pretty, and it must be haVd to give 
up youth and to feel your beauty slipping from 
you. Especially hard when beauty has been your 
chief asset in life, as I fancy it has been with 
Mrs. Huntington.” She gave the older woman 
a polite bow and smile and Mr. Kinsella formally 
offered her his chair but with no great cordiality. 

“Oh, thank you, Tom. And how are you. Miss 
Brown? I do hope you are feeling better. My 
daughter has taken such a fancy to you, she has 
been quite desole at your nonappearance all 
day.” 

“Oh, I am all well again, thanks to Mr. Kin- 
sella’s getting me some food at the psychological 
moment when health was returning,” answered 
Molly, wondering at Mrs. Huntington’s change 


THE DEEP SEA 


53 


of tactics since the evening before, when she had 
been so insolent in her bearing to her. ''It is 
certainly nicer to have her polite to me than rude, 
whether she means it or not,’’ she said to her- 
self. "1 do wish I had not been sick all day. I 
did want to see her first meeting with Mr. Kin- 
sella. I know she had something to do with his 
premature grayness and the disappointment that 
Pierce hinted at. How coldly polite he is to her 
now. If a man like that had ever loved me and 
then could be so cold to me, I believe it would kill 
me,” which shows that Molly was very sentimen- 
tal and on the lookout for romance. 

The gong rang for dinner and there was a 
general move toward the cabin. 

‘Tlease tell Mother I am all right and will sit 
here while she is at dinner, and that she must 
not hurry. I believe 'discretion would be the bet- 
ter part of valor’ for me and I had better not try 
to eat anything more for a while.” 

After the deck was clear except for a few help- 
lessly, hopelessly sick persons who lay like mum- 
mies in their chairs, ranged along the deck, Molly 
decided to get up and walk around a little, feel- 
ing anxious to try her sea legs. Then as the 
wind had shifted, she determined to move her 


54 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

chair to a sheltered nook behind one of the life- 
boats. She bundled herself up in her rug, pulling 
the corner of it over her head and lay for all the 
world like the rest of the mummies. ‘'Only, 
thank goodness, I am no longer sick,’’ she thought 
gratefully. 

Her soul was at peace, after the night and day 
of agony, and she dropped off easily into a doze. 
She dreamed that she was at home in the old 
apple tree that they had called “The Castle” and 
that Kent was gently shaking the tree, trying to 
make her get out so Professor Green could build 
his bungalow there; and when she refused and 
declared it was her Castle and she intended to 
stay in it, the Professor himself had come, with 
his kind brown eyes looking into hers, and said : 
“But, Miss Molly, the bungalow is yours, too, and 
the Orchard is still your home.” She awoke but 
lay quite still wondering at the reality of her 
dream. 


CHAPTER IV. 


WHAT MOTTY OVI:rHE:ARD. 

It had grown quite dark. The passengers were 
evidently still at dinner. A man loomed up close 
to her and then stopped, evidently unaware of 
her presence. Leaning over the rail and gazing 
into the black depths of water, he emitted a sigh 
that seemed to come from his soul. Suddenly a 
woman joined him. Molly was still half asleep, 
thinking of the orchard at Chatsworth and of 
what Professor Green's bungalow would look 
like among the apple trees. Her thoughts came 
back to the ship with a bounce when she heard 
the woman say: 

‘‘Tom, why do you avoid me? Can't you let 
bygones be bygones ?" 

“That is exactly what I am doing, Mrs. Hunt- 
ington: letting bygones be bygones. It seems 
a useless thing for us to rake up the past." 

“ ‘Mrs. Huntington' sounds very cold and for- 
mal coming from your lips." 

“Well, I gathered you did not think much of 
55 


56 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

the name of Lizzie since you have changed your 
daughter’s to Elise.” 

‘‘Oh, Tom, you are cruel !” 

“Now see here, Mrs. Huntington,! do not want 
to be rude to you. I have lived in total ignorance 
of you and your affairs for twenty-five years, 
and since by chance we meet on a steamer, you 
cannot make me feel that what I do or say is of 
the slightest importance to you. You made the 
young Tom Kinsella about as miserable as a man 
could be, but the old Tom is immune from misery, 
thank God, and there is no use in trying to get a 
flame from the dead ashes of the past. I am 
very glad to see you again and especially glad to 
make the acquaintance of the daughter of my old 
friend, George O’Brien.” 

“You forgive George but do not forgive me.” 

“I have nothing to forgive George, and you 
know it. He was the soul of honor and had no 
idea of there being an engagement between us, 
when he married you. I am as sure of this as 
though George himself had told me. In those 
good old days in Paris when we were all of us 
art students, George and I were great chums. I 
could read him like a book and there never lived 
a more honest fellow. 


WHAT MOLLY OVERHEARD 


57 


'When my father died and his foundry at 
Newark seemed in a fair way to be on its last 
legs for want of management and the family in- 
come was in danger of being decidedly lessened, 
you persuaded me, in fact, you put it up to me, 
to give you up or give up art and go to work and 
pull the foundry out of the hole. 

"Art meant a lot to me, but at the time you 
meant a lot more. You remember you would not 
let me announce our engagement to our friends, 
not even to George. 

"I went back to America and piled into a work, 
entirely uncongenial, but determined to win out. 
Things were in an awful mess because of my 
father’s long inability to attend to business. My 
brother Pierce was still in college and could be 
of no assistance to me. I had to master the busi- 
ness from the beginning, learning every detail 
before I could put it on the efficiency basis that 
I knew it must attain before I could be satisfied. 

"I wrote you rather discouraged letters, I will 
admit, but I felt I could pour out my soul to 
you and you alone. I knew it would be two or 
three years before it would be expedient for 
us to marry, but my faith in you was supreme and 


58 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

it never entered my head you would not wait for 
me. 

^'When the goal was in sight, you may imagine 
the shock it gave me when a casual acquaintance, 
recently returned from Paris, spoke of having 
had such a gay time at your wedding breakfast, 
given in old George’s studio (the one I used to 
share with him) by his fellow students. 

“Not a word from you; later on a letter from 
George, full of happiness and your charms and 
explaining #to me how it came about he could 
marry. He had been one of the poorest among 
a lot of fellows, where poverty was the rule and 
not the exception; but his uncle, the Brooklyn 
politician, had died and left him a hundred thou- 
sand dollars. That seemed immense wealth to 
the Latin Quarter, and there was rejoicing in all 
of the ateliers where George O’Brien was a gen- 
eral favorite and Lizzie Peck was known as the 
prettiest American girl in the Quarter. 

“The shock was so great I was like a dead man 
for weeks, but I never told a soul of my pitiful 
love affair. I got over the loss of you as soon as 
I could pull myself together enough to think that 
if you were the kind who could do as you did, 
I was well out of it ; and George had my pity and 


WHAT MOLLY OVERHEAKD 


59 


not my envy. But my Art — ^my Art — nothing 
can ever make up to me for giving it up. I could 
not go back to it, as I had plunged too deeply into 
the foundry affairs to pull out, and one cannot 
serve business and Art at the same time. Art 
is too jealous a mistress to share her lover's time 
with anything else. I went on with the work and 
came out very well. 

‘'This is the first real holiday I have had for 
many years, but I am determined to have a good 
time and am not going to let regret prey upon 
me. 

Molly had been a forced listener to this long 
speech, but she could not fool herself into think- 
ing she had been an unwilling one. She was 
thrilled to the soul by Mr. Kinsella's history. 
No wonder he was so sad looking and occa- 
sionally so bitter! She was glad he had not 
truckled to the spoiled Mrs. Huntington, but 
had let her know exactly where he stood. It was 
not so very chivalrous of him, but she needed a 
good mental and moral slap and Mr. Kinsella had 
administered it as gently as possible, no doubt. 

What was Molly to do now ? To let them know 
she was there would make it horribly embarrass- 
ing for all concerned, and still she felt she had 


60 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

already heard more than she had any business t6 
know. 

‘Til have to pretend I am asleep and never 
divulge to a soul, (except Mother, of course,) 
that I have overheard this tremendously interest- 
ing conversation.’’ 

Mrs. Huntington was silenced for a few mo- 
ments by Mr. Kinsella’s harangue, but finally 
spoke : 

“Tom, you are hard on me. I was very young 
at the time and had always been so poor.” 

“That is so, Lizzie. It was hard on you to be 
so poor; but you were not so very young. You 
must have been about the age your daughter is 
now, and I fancy you would not excuse much in 
her because of her youth. You were two years 
older than I was in those days.” 

“Brute!” 

“Mind you, I said ‘in those days.’ I do not 
mean you are still two years older than I am.” 

Molly was sorry that Mr. Kinsella was push- 
ing the poor lady so far. She made a quick cal- 
culation from the evidence in hand and realized 
that Mrs. Huntington must be about forty-nine. 
“Almost as old as Mother! And just look at 
her hair and clothes ! She looks much younger, 


WHAT MOLLY OVERHEARD 


61 


and I know it is hard on her to give up her youth. 
I do wish Mr. Kinsella had not said that to her 
about being two years older than he is ! It was 
not very kind, even if she did jilt him. It seems 
a small revenge to me. I wish I could have made 
my presence known and then I should not have 
heard Mr. Kinsella belittle himself, which I cer- 
tainly think he did.’’ 

Poor Mrs. Huntington swallowed her resent- 
ment as best she could and continued the conver- 
sation : ''There is one thing I should like to ask 
of you as a favor, Tom, and that is: please do 
not tell Elise that her father and I ever studied 
art. Not that I ever studied very hard, but 
George was certainly much interested and it took 
a deal of managing to persuade him to give it up 
and go into politics. You see, his uncle’s influ- 
ence was still hot and there were many plums 
waiting for him. I was too ignorant in those 
days to know that it did not necessarily follow 
that political jobs brought social success. 

"George was very successful and doubled his 
inheritance, but we had no position at all. He 
changed a great deal. You would hardly have 
known him in his last years. You remember how 
gay and light-hearted and good-tempered he al- 


62 MOLLY BKOWN^S OECHAED HOME 

ways was. Well, he lost it all and became morose 
and bitter. Elise was the only person who had 
any influence on him at all. We had to live in 
Brooklyn and how I did hate it 

"'How long has George been dead 

"Oh, ten years or so. Elise was a mere child 
and George never spoke to her of having wished 
to become an artist. It seemed best to me for her 
to live in ignorance of the fact as she is already 
ridiculously fond of trying to paint; and if she 
knew there were any hereditary reasons, for it, 
there is no telling what stand she would take. 
I hate the Bohemian life that artists lead, and 
now that I have made so many sacrifices for her 
to place her in the best society, I have no idea 
of allowing her to drop out. 

"We are received in the most exclusive houses 
in New York and Newport, and while our means 
do not permit us to entertain very largely, our 
at-homes are most popular with the Four Hun- 
dred. 

"Elise is very stubborn. She has had several 
excellent offers but refuses to consider anyone 
whom she does not love. George O’Brien was 
very sentimental and she has inherited that from 
him, along with her love for dabbling.” 


WHAT MOLLY OVEEHEAED 


63 


Mr. Kinsella had maintained a grim silence 
during this heartless speech; but he now asked: 
"What sacrifice have you made for your daugh- 
ter’s welfare, you poor put-upon lady?” 

"Why, I married Ponsonby Huntington! He 
had not a sou to his name but he had the entree 
into all the fashionable homes in the East. He 
was a great expense, but it fully repaid me, as 
he lived long enough to establish Elise and me in 
that society for which we are eminently fitted. 
I am deeply grateful to him and his family and 
do not begrudge the money, now that he is dead. 

""I was keen enough not to let him go into my 
principal very largely. I am an excellent busi- 
ness woman, Tom, and have managed my affairs 
wonderfully well.” 

""So it seems,” muttered Mr. Kinsella. ""You 
have evidently satisfied all your ideals. I am glad 
to tell you that I have already divulged to Elise 
that her father might have become a very good 
painter, and was astonished that she was ignorant 
of the fact that he had ever drawn a line in his 
life. I say that I am glad, as I want to talk to 
George’s daughter about her father, and I can- 
not think of my old friend, George O’Brien, as 
anything but the gay, care-free art student, al- 


64 


MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


ways ready to go on a lark and to share his last 
penny, of which he had very few, with any needy 
fellow-student. Don't you ever feel like painting 
yourself?" 

''No! I hate the sight of a paint brush, and as 
for adding in any way to the ever-increasing 
flood of poorly painted pictures, — I can at least 
claim my innocence of that crime." 

"Perhaps you are right, but you used to be so 
clever at catching a likeness." 

"Elise has the same power, but I hate to see it 
in her and never encourage her by the least 
praise. Of course you can't understand this 
feeling, but I know the girl would fly off at the 
slightest chance and live in that shabby Latin 
Quarter. There, no doubt, she would marry 
some down-at-the-heel artist, who would live on 
her money and go on painting bad pictures to 
the end of time; and she would aid and abet him 
and paint worse ones herself!" 

"Elise has money, then?" 

"The money is all hers except my pitiful third 
that the law allows me, and I had to go into 
that a little to keep Ponsonby Huntington in a 
good humor. However, Elise cannot get control 
of her money until she is twenty-five and I have 


WHAT MOLLY OVEKHEAED 


65 


several years yet. She is quite equal to throwing 
me over in spite of all I have done for her.^’ Mrs. 
Huntington spoke with a rancor that was really 
astounding to Molly, whose own mother was so 
different that the girl had an idea that all mothers 
must have some of Mrs. Brown's qualities. 

*'Oh, I am sure you are mistaken in judging 
your daughter thus severely ! She must have in- 
herited from George some other traits along with 
the artistic talent." 

‘‘That is just it. She inherited from him this 
very tendency to be hard on me. Was it kind 
or right for George to leave all the money to 
her; and to me, his devoted and long-suffering 
wife, nothing more than the law exacted? My 
only hope is that she may marry a man rich 
enough to make a handsome settlement on me. 
One who will have money enough not to regard 
Elise's fortune at all, except, perhaps, to realize 
the necessity of turning it over to me. Now tell 
me : do you think the Latin Quarter a likely place 
for a girl to find such a husband ?" 

“Oh, I don't know. You did pretty well there, 
and if you had waited for me, you might have 
done even better from a financial standpoint, as 
I have been very successful as the world takes 


66 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

it. Perhaps poor little Elise might have equal 
luck. Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, how changed you are! 
You have spoken only of money and position and 
society; never once of love and humanity. I 
can't bear to see you this way. When I think of 
you as a girl with your soft, sweet manner and 
no more worldliness than a kitten, I can hardly 
bear to contemplate this change in you." 

''Oh la, la, Tom, you and I know that a kitten 
only takes a year to grow into a horrid cat, and 
as you so brutally and frankly put it, I have had 
about twenty-five years to grow and sharpen my 
claws. You struck this note first in our conver- 
sation. I was prepared to be as nice as you once 
thought me, but I saw how cynical you had grown 
and I knew there was no use in putting on ; so I 
have rather enjoyed showing you my true self. 
Anyhow, you are grateful to me for throwing 
you over, now that you see what I am. Is it not 
so?" 

Mr. Kinsella did not answer for a moment, but 
finally said, changing the subject : "There is one 
thing I am going to ask of you for auld lang 
syne and I think maybe you will grant it: let 
Elise put in this winter in a good studio in Paris. 
She is hungry for a long period of uninterrupted 


WHAT MOLLY OVEKHEAKD 67 

work and I know it will soften her toward you 
instead of hardening her; and I feel sure that 
when the dreaded twenty-fifth birthday arrives, 
she will want to settle half of the fortune on you. 
Do this for me, Lizzie. I guarantee it will come 
out well for you.’’ 

Mrs. Huntington hesitated for a moment and 
then by a quick calculation came to the conclusion 
that it would be a good thing, after all, and would 
leave her free to go where she chose. She well 
knew how cheaply a girl could board in Paris 
when she was at work in a studio, and, as Tom 
said, there was every chance of her picking up 
a rich husband among the students. There were 
always some young men who were rolling in 
wealth, but still had the artistic bee in their bon- 
nets. 

'T’ll do it, Tom, but if it turns out badly I’ll 
have you to thank.” 

^'Lizzie, now you are more like your old self 
and I am grateful to you for this concession. 
Come, let us find EHse and tell her the good 
news.” 

Molly was indeed glad to have the interview 
over. It was against her whole honest nature to 
eavesdrop, but she felt it best for all concerned 


68 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

for her to remain quiet. As soon as Mr. Kinsella 
and Mrs. Huntington had disappeared, Molly 
beat a hasty retreat to her stateroom where her 
mother was looking for her, not being able to 
find her on deck. 

“Oh, Mother, I am so excited V And she told 
Mrs. Brown all about her forced concealment 
during the intimate conversation between the old 
lovers. 

“It is very interesting, certainly, and I hardly 
know how you could help being a listener. Since 
it will go no farther, as of course neither of us 
will ever mention the matter to a soul, it will do 
no harm. I wish you had not had to hear it, 
however, as I hate for my Molly to realize that 
such women as Mts. Huntington exist, so cold 
and selfish and worldly. I am glad poor Elise 
is to be allowed to stay in Paris all winter and 
work. Perhaps we can make up to her some for 
her mother’s heartlessness.” 

So mother and daughter kissed and went to 
bed ; Molly waked the next morning with no trace 
of seasickness, ready and eager to enjoy the rest 
of the voyage. 

The trip was delightful to both mother and 
daughter. They made many acquaintances on 


WHAT MOLLY OVEKHEAED 


69 . 


board, but Elise O’Brien and the two Kinsellas 
they counted among their real friends. So close- 
ly were the five thrown together on the voyage, 
that they often said it seemed as though they 
had known one another all their lives. Mrs. 
Huntington kept to herself much of the time. 
She seemed to realize that it was policy to 
let Elise have as good a time as she could with 
her father’s old friend and his nephew ; and since 
the Browns seemed to have influential and 
wealthy friends, they could, at least, do her 
daughter no harm, and might even prove useful 
during the girl’s sojourn in Paris. 

Elise bloomed in this congenial atmosphere and 
did not look like the same girl. She had a ready 
wit, was quick at repartee, and after a while her 
tongue lost its bitterness and her sarcastic humor 
became much more genial. 

Mr. Kinsella would often say: '‘That is like 
your father. He had the kindest humor in the 
world and was truly Irish in his wit.” But when 
she was too critical or inclined to let her wit run 
away with her heart, he would shake his head 
and look sad ; and the girl began to care what her 
father’s friend thought of her, and tried to please 
him. 


70 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

She had liked Molly from the minute they 
clasped hands when Pierce introduced them, and 
this liking grew to enthusiastic love. She had 
had few intimates and this friendship was won- 
derful to her. Mr. Kinsella realized the impor- 
tance of this wholesome influence on his charge, 
(he had made Elise his charge ever since he 
wrung from her mother the promise to let her 
continue her studies in art), and he did every- 
thing to throw the girls together and give them 
opportunities to talk their eager girls’ talk. 

“I hate to think of the journey coming to an 
end,” said Molly. ‘Ht has been splendid; but if 
the trip is nearly over, our friendship has just 
begun! And what times we can have in Paris! 
Isn’t it great that you and Judy know each other 
and that the three of us are so congenial?” 

Elise looked sad. ''Yes, it is fine, but I know 
you and Judy will want me out of the way. You 
are such old friends, and I shall always feel like 
an interloper.” 

"Oh, Elise, Elise! You must not feel that way 
for an instant. Judy and I love each other a 
whole lot, but we are not a bit inclined to pair off 
and not make new friends. Judy is more than 


WHAT MOLLY OVEEHEAED 71 

likely already to have begun a big affair of 
friendship with somebody. She will get so thick 
with that one that she will have no time for any- 
one else ; and then she will find out the person is 
not the paragon she had imagined and come 
weeping back to me/’ said Molly, throwing her 
arm around Elise and giving her a warm hug. 

"Well, let’s enjoy the few hours left to us. It 
seems hardly possible that this is the same, stupid 
old boat that we boarded a little over a week 
ago. I hated it, our stuffy stateroom, the crowded 
table; and then I always dread a long voyage 
with Mamma. She gets so cross and overbearing 
when she is cut off from society and amusements 

and ” Elise stopped suddenly. She felt 

Molly’s friendly arm growing slack around her 
waist and she realized that her new friends, the 
Browns, could not tolerate her impertinent re- 
marks to and about her mother. ""Oh, Molly, 
please excuse me. I am trying to be nicer about 
Mamma. It is awfully ill-bred of me to speak of 
her in that way, no matter how I feel.” 

""Elise, why don’t you try to feel differently 
and then it would be impossible for you to speak 
so?” 


72 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

‘^Oh, Molly, I will try/’ And it shows she was 
already trying, for she did not add what was in 
her heart to say, ‘Hf you only knew my mother 
you would not ask that of me/’ 


CHAPTER V. 


PARIS. 

Jtidy! I can’t believe that we are really 
here, that this is Paris, and that you are you! 
As for me, I feel like ‘there was an old woman as 
Pve heard tell’ who said Xawk a mercy on me, 
this surely can’t be L’ ” 

Molly settled herself with a sigh of supreme 
enjoyment on the lumpy seat of an extremely 
rickety taxi that Judy had engaged to take the 
Browns from the station to Mrs. Pace’s very 
exclusive pension on the Boulevard St. Michel. 

“It does seem almost too good to be true that 
I have got you and your dear mother at last. I 
have not been able to work for a week because 
of the excitement of expectation. I went over to 
Monroe’s this morning and got your mail. I 
could hardly lug it home, both of you had such a 
batch. You see, the mail has beaten your slow 
steamer in and everyone is writing to have a 
greeting ready for you in Paris.” And Judy, 
who was in the middle, put embracing arms 
73 


74 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

around both Mrs. Brown and Molly as they rode 
down the Avenue de F Opera. 

How wonderful Paris looked to them on that 
clear, crisp day in autumn! She was showing 
her best and most smiling aspect to the travelers, 
which delighted Judy, as she felt quite responsible 
for her beloved city and wanted her friends to 
like it as much as she did. They passed various 
points of interest which Judy pointed out with 
pride, and which brought answering tjirills from 
Mrs. Brown and Molly. 

The streets were gay with little pushcarts, 
laden with chrysanthemums and attended by the 
most delightful looking old women. Everyone 
seemed to be in a good humor and no one in 
much of a hurry except the chauffeurs, and they 
went whizzing by at a most incredible speed 
through the crowded thoroughfares. 

''How clean the streets are!'’ exclaimed Mrs. 
Brown. "And what a good smell !" 

"Oh, I just wondered if you would notice the 
smell ! That is Paris. 'Every city has an odor of 
its own,' Papa says, and I believe he is right. 
Paris smells better than New York, although I 
like the smell in New York, too; but Paris has 
a strange freshness in its odor that reminds me of 


PARIS 


75 


flowers and good things to eat, and suggests gay 
times, rollicking fun and adventure/’ 

‘‘Same old Judy,” laughed Molly, “with her 
imagination on tap.” 

Just then they ran under the arches of the 
Louvre into the Place du Carrousel, and Molly 
held her breath with wonder and delight. Then 
came the Seine with its beautiful bridges, its in- 
numerable boats, and its quays with the historic 
secondhand book stalls where Edwin Green had 
looked forward to walking with her, searching 
for treasures of first editions and what not. 
“Never mind,” thought Molly, “Professor Green 
may come later and the first editions will keep.” 

“There is the wonderful statue of Voltaire, 
and through this street you can catch a glimpse 
of the Beaux Arts,” chanted Judy. “Now look 
out, for before you know it we will be in the aris- 
tocratic Faubourg St. Germain, — and then the 
Luxembourg Gardens, — and here we are at our 
own respectable door before we are ready for it ! 
Now Mrs. Pace will eat both of you up for a 
while and I cannot get a word in edgewise.” 

The Pension Pace was on the corner where a 
small street ran into the broad boulevard at a 
sharp angle, making the building wedge-shaped. 


76 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHARD HOME 

It was a very imposing looking house and Mrs. 
Brown wondered at a woman being able to con- 
duct such a huge affair. She expressed her sur- 
prise to Judy, who informed her that Mrs. Pace 
had only the three upper floors and that the other 
flats were let to different tenants. 

“The elevator takes us to the fifth floor, where 
Mrs. Pace has her parlors, dining salon and 
swellest boarders, — at least the boarders able to 
pay the most. Of course zue do not think that 
they are the swellest, since we are on the seventh 
floor ourselves. Who so truly swell as we?’" 
Judy got out of the taxi with such an assumption 
of great style that the chauffeur, much impressed, 
demanded a larger pourboire than she saw fit to 
give him. 

“They always try to make you pay more, no 
matter what you offer. I am adamant, however,, 
where cabbies and chauffeurs are concerned. 
Papa says, Xook after the tips and the legitimate 
expenses will look after themselves." So I look 
after the tips and trust to luck for the rest to 
come out right. I am not much of an economist, 
I fear, but I am learning, now that I am on a 
strict allowance."" 

An elevator, so slow that its progress was al- 


PAEIS 


77 


most imperceptible, took them to the fifth floor 
where Mrs. Pace was in readiness to receive 
them. Her greeting was very cordial and con- 
descending. She seemed to be taking them under 
her protecting wing, giving them to understand 
that with her they had nothing more to fear or 
worry about; and as Molly and her mother had 
nothing in particular to worry about and certainly 
nothing to fear, they were very much amused by 
her attitude toward them. Judy was purple with 
suppressed merriment as Mrs. Pace advised them 
to go right to bed, to rest up from their long 
journey, poor sick, miserable, friendless females. 

Mrs. Brown assured her that she was not at 
all tired and never felt better in her life; that 
she had made many friends on the steamer; and 
that she would freshen up a bit with some soap 
and water and then go out for a walk with Miss 
Julia Kean. Mrs. Brown had reckoned without 
her host, however, as the intrepid Mrs. Pace took 
them to their room on the seventh floor, just 
across the hall from Judy's, and did not leave 
them until they were in their kimonos and ac- 
tually lying down. 

‘'You must not try to .keep up, dear ladies, 
when you are overfatigued and ill. Bed is the 


^8 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHARD HOME 

best place for you, bed and quiet. Miss Kean< 
had better leave you now and let you have a 
little nap.’' 

While Mrs. Pace talked, she had plumped up 
their pillows and lowered the shade of the one 
large window, opened their suitcases and got out 
their kimonos and, despite their feeble protest, 
had actually undressed them and put them to bed ! 
Then, forcibly ejecting Judy, she shut the door 
with admonitions for them to sleep until dinner 
at six-thirty. 

Judy went very dutifully to her room until she 
heard the last of Mrs. Pace’s ponderous tread 
on the stairs; then she crept softly to the Browns’ 
door and gently opened it to find Mrs. Brown 
and Molly rolling on the bed, overcome with 
laughter. 

‘‘Oh, oh, oh ! She has taken at least forty-five 
years oflF of my age,” giggled Mrs. Brown like a 
veritable boarding-school miss. “I have never in 
my life seen such a born boss as the redoubtable 
Mrs. Pace! Did you see her undo my belt and 
take off my skirt? I could not have felt more 
like a child if my waist had been a pinafore in- 
stead of a respectable black silk. And as for 
Molly, she was treated as though she were just 


PARIS 


79 


about old enough to go into rompers.” And they 
all went off into peals of laughter. 

'Well, now is the time to take a stand or you 
will never be able to,” said Judy. "I defied her 
from the first and she lets me alone wonderfully.” 

"Yes, I noticed how you withstood her author- 
ity when you were sent to your room!” grinned 
Molly, as she got back into the clothes that had 
been forcibly removed only five minutes before. 
"I see you have sneaked in our letters and I, for 
one, am going to read mine, and then if we can 
get down stairs without the dragon devouring us, 
let’s take a walk. We shall have plenty of time 
before dinner.” 

They accordingly read their letters and crept 
down stairs and out on the street for a breath of 
air and a stroll in the Luxembourg Gardens. It 
was too late to try to see the pictures in the 
Gallery of the Luxembourg and, after all, they 
had the winter before them. And now that she 
was out on the street, having escaped the dragon, 
Mrs. Brown confessed to feeling a little mite 
tired, so they sat down on a bench in the Gardens 
and watched the children play. 

"Poor Mrs. Brown, of course you are tired! 
That is the most irritating thing about Mrs. 


80 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHAKD HOME 

Pace : she is always right. ‘It is best to rest after 
a trip whether you feel tired or not, as the re- 
action after a journey is obliged to come, and 
you pay up for it to-morrow if you do not rest 
to-day’,’" and Judy imitated Mrs. Pace to the 
life. 

“Well, you may be sure, my dear girls, that 
wild horses will not drag the fact from me in 
the presence of the dragon, even if I am weary 
unto death. Does she coerce all her boarders as 
she did me, Judy?” 

“Most of them are completely under her do- 
minion, finding it easiest and best to take the 
course of least resistance. Some few rebel, but 
they usually end by moving on. If you stay at 
the Pension Pace and wish to ''requiescat in 
pace/ you do as she says to do. I have defied her 
from the first and now I am rated as an undesir- 
able boarder. Had it not been that she was wild 
to have you with her because of your relationship 
to the Marquise d’Ochte, she would have raised 
some cock and bull story about my room having 
been engaged by someone a year ago and, since 
her honor was at stake, she would have to ask me 
to vacate. 

“I tell you she is a sly one. You must either 


PARIS 


81 


have lots and loads of money, or you must do 
as she says, do — or die. Of course she has an 
excellent house in a most desirable quarter and 
she caters to Americans. You will notice that 
the food is much more American than French; 
and after people have been knocking around the 
Continent, of course they are overjoyed to have 
some food that seems like home.’" 

‘'But I don’t want American food,” wailed 
Molly. “I want French things, even snails; and 
I want to learn how to ask for these things in 
the most Frenchy style. What is the use in com- 
ing to Paris and staying with a stuffy old dame 
from Philadelphia and eating the things we have 
at home ?” 

“Oh, I am so glad you feel that way! How 
about you, Mrs. Brown? Papa and Mamma made 
me promise to do just as you thought best. They 
put me in Mrs. Pace’s house and I have been 
determined not to worry them about changing, 
but I am ’most dead of her and her ways. Do 
say you think we ought to go to housekeeping or 
should get in a French family; anything to get 
out of the dragon’s den,” pleaded Judy. 

“For how long did you engage our room?” 
asked Mrs. Brown, smiling at Judy’s despair. 


82 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

''One week; and mine, also, is taken by the 
week. She tried to make Papa sign for the whole 
winter, but he was on to her from the first and 
refused to do more than take it from week to 
week. He and Mamma stayed here a few days on 
their way to Turkey, and you would have died 
laughing if you had seen Mrs. Pace try to make 
Papa 'Fletcherize.’ You know he always eats as 
though the train would not wait. At every meal 
she remarked on it and one day said at dinner: 
'This is veal, Mr. Kean, and should be thoroughly 
masticated.’ Whereupon he put down his knife 
and fork and, looking her solemnly in the eye, 
said : 'That is. good advice no doubt for ordinary 
mortals, but after long years in railroad camps I 
have acquired a gizzard.’ With that he took a 
great piece oi blanquette de veau and to all ap- 
pearances swallowed it whole without changing 
his expression. I choked so I had to leave the 
table and I believe Mrs. Pace, to this day, thinks 
that by a skillful legerdemain I swallowed the 
veal! Anyhow, Bobby ate to suit himself after 
that.” 

"Oh, Judy, how ridiculous you are! I wish I 
could have seen Mr. Kean execute his daring 
feat,” laughed Molly. "Mother, let’s look around 


PAEIS 


83 


for an apartment and go to housekeeping imme- 
diately. I am sorry we told Elise O'Brien about 
Mrs. Pace's. I can't bear for her to be anywhere 
that is not pleasant. She has had tribulations 
enough in her day." 

Judy had not yet heard anything of their fel- 
low passengers, as they had been so occupied with 
Paris and the pension that they had had no time 
to tell her of their voyage and the pleasant people 
they had met. She was much interested in the 
fact that Miss O'Brien was to be at the art school 
for the winter and said she was a girl of un- 
doubted talent. As for young Kinsella, he was 
the cleverest draughtsman at the League. 

''Do you girls think you like Elise enough to 
have her come to live with us for the winter?" 
asked Mrs. Brown. "I feel sure the poor girl 
would be happy, and if you would all fit in to- 
gether and be congenial, I really think it would be 
an act of chr.rity to ask her. We must consider 
it from all sides before we rush into it, however." 

"Mother, it would be splendid !" declared 
Molly. "I believe Mrs. Huntington was dying 
for you to ask Elise, but of course had to wait 
for you to suggest it. We could divide the ex- 
penses into four parts and I know it would be 


84 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

cheaper than boarding and infinitely more agree- 
able/’ 

‘*Mrs. Brown, I am sure we should get on like 
a house afire, and it does seem as though we 
might take Elise in and give her a pleasant home. 
I promise to be real good and get on with every- 
body, if I can only know I am to leave the Maison 
Pace in peace,” promised Judy. 

So it was decided by these three impulsive 
souls to take in Elise O’Brien and to get a flat 
forthwith and leave the sheltering wing of the 
dragon. Mrs. Brown thought it best to stay a 
fortnight in their present quarters so they could 
look well about them ; she also wanted to see her 
old friend and cousin, the Marquise d’Ochte, for 
if she were anything like the Sally Bolling of old, 
she felt sure she could depend on her for some 
assistance in the matter of getting settled. 

^'Of course, she may have changed so, after 
being married to a French nobleman for some 
twenty-eight years, that I will hesitate to ask any- 
thing of her; but I have an idea old Sally could 
not change. I remember her as being a great 
harum-scarum but with the best heart in the 
world, and absolutely honest and unaffected. My 


PARIS 


85 


experience is that honest, unaffected people do 
not change in the long run/^ 

'"What did she look like, Mother?’' asked 
Molly. 

"Well, when I come to think of it, she looked 
a little like you. She is only my second cousin, 
once removed, not such very close kin; but this 
red hair of yours comes cropping out in every 
generation or so in my family and the similar 
coloring makes one fancy a likeness even if there 
is none; but Sally had your eyes and your chin. 
She took life much more lightly than my Molly 
does, saw a jest where none was intended and 
sometimes cracked a joke when seriousness would 
have been in better taste. I have not seen her 
for many years and she stopped corresponding 
with all of us; not that there was any disagree- 
ment, but letter-writing simply died a natural 
death, as time went on. I am greatly interested 
in seeing her.” 

Mrs. Brown also decided to let Mr. Kinsella 
approach the O’Briens in regard to having Elise 
live with her. She was very well aware of Mrs. 
Huntington’s nature and felt that that lady would 
be fully capable of treating her as though Elise 
were necessary to the housekeeping scheme to 


86 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

help out the financial end; and Mrs. Brown was 
determined to have no one with her as a boarder, 
but to run the menage on a co-operative principle, 
letting all of them share the expense. 

Mrs. Huntington and Elise had stopped in 
Brussels for a visit with some friends and Mr. 
Kinsella and Pierce were still in Antwerp getting 
their fill of the pictures to be seen there. They 
were uncertain how long it would take them to 
grow tired of the interesting Belgian city and 
could not tell just when their friends might ex- 
pect them in Paris. 

When the three renegades returned from their 
walk in the Luxembourg Gardens, they hoped to 
reach their rooms without being seen by Mrs. 
Pace, but that lady^s motto was ‘^Eternal Vigi- 
lance,’’ and no one went out of her house or came 
in unobserved. She met them as they stepped off 
the elevator on the fifth floor and gently but 
firmly admonished them for their disobedience. 
Molly noticed her mother’s heightening color and 
her quivering nostrils and remembered with a 
smile what Aunt Mary, their old cook, always 
said to them when they were children : “Ole Miss 
is long suffrin’ an’ slow to anger but when her 
nose gits to wuckin’, you chillun ought to learn 


PAEIS 


87 


that she done had ’nuf and you had better make 
yo’sefs scurse/’ Peace-loving Molly drew Mrs. 
Brown's arm through her own and gently press- 
ing it, led her upstairs. 

‘‘Thank you, my dear, I was on the verge of at- 
tacking the dragon, and since we are to be here 
two weeks, I must not do anything to make it 
more difficult. But did you ever see anyone more 
impertinent?" asked Mrs. Brown, still sniffing 
the battle from afar. 

“Never," sympathized Judy. “I wish you had 
said your say. I believe you could get ahead of 
the fabulous monster in open combat. She is, 
after all, a very flabby, fabulous monster and one 
prick would do for her." 


CHAPTER VI. 


I,A marquise. 

''La Marquise d'Ochte is attending Madame 
Brune in the salon au cinquieme etage,” an- 
nounced a very excited little housemaid, who was 
supposed to speak English for the benefit of the 
American pensionnaires at Maison Pace. "Ma- 
dame Pace is some time gone at the toucher, not 
expecting callers at so early heur. La Marquise 
demanded not Madame Pace; but said very dis- 
tinctment 'Madame Brune et sa fille\” 

''Very well, Alphonsine, thank you so much. 
My daughter and I will come down immediately,’’ 
said Mrs. Brown, smiling at the agitation of the 
little maid. Mrs. Pace had evidently given her 
servants to understand the importance her pen- 
sion gained from the visits of a marchioness. 

"Milly, Milly, how I have longed to see you,” 
and the Marquise d’Ochte rose from her seat and 
clasped her one-time friend and beloved cousin in 

a warm embrace. "And this is your daughter? 

88 


LA MARQUISE 


89 


Goodness, child, you look like me, — at least, like 
me when I was young!'' 

Molly knew in the first second of greeting that 
she was going to like this cousin, and Mrs. Brown 
was delighted to see in the marchioness the same 
Sally Bolling of thirty years ago. She was like 
Molly in a way, but it was hard to realize that 
Molly could ever be quite so buxom as this 
middle-aged cousin. She was a very large woman 
with an excellent figure for her weight, and hair 
a little darker than Molly's with no silver threads 
showing so far. 

''I pull 'em out if they dare to so much as show 
their noses. They say forty will come in when 
you pull out one, but then I'll make my maid pull 
out forty, if it kills me in the pulling," she de- 
clared when Mrs. Brown remarked on it in the 
course of their inventory of each other. ‘‘My 
Jean declares he got caught in my hair and could^ 
not get away, and I mean still to keep him." 

“I am afraid I would snatch myself bald- 
headed if I tried to pull all of my gray hairs out," 
laughed Mrs. Brown; “but, Sally, you are exactly 
the same girl who left Kentucky ages ago; there 
is just a little more of you." 

“A little more of me, indeed! There is about 


90 MOLLY BKOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

twice as much of me as there used to be. But, 
Milly, you are exactly the same; there is not even 
any more of you. You look much more like a 
member of the French nobility than I do.'" 

The marchioness did not look in the least 
French, but more like a well-groomed English 
woman. Her dark brown suit was very simple 
and well made, and her shoes bore the earmarks 
of an English boot maker, fitting her perfectly 
but with low heels, broad toes and heavy soles. 
Her hat was the only French touch about her, and 
that could have been concocted in no spot in the 
world but Paris, so perfectly did it blend with her 
hair and furs. 

''Now tell me all about yourselves and what 
you are going to do with your winter, and we can 
'reminisce’ another time. We must hurry before 
Henny Pace gets back from market. I came 
early so as to avoid her and see you a moment 
alone. She is a kind, good soul and I am really 
very fond of her for auld lang syne, but you 
might as well try to hold a conversation with a 
bumping bug in the room as Henrietta. Firstly, 
do you mean to stay here ?” 

Molly and her mother laughed outright at the 
bumping bug comparison. It was very apt. 


LA MAKQUISE 


91 


^'Why, Cousin Sally, we could not think of 
spending the winter being coerced at every turn,’’ 
returned Molly. ‘^We were hardly in the house 
before Mrs. Pace actually took Mother’s clothes 
off and put her to bed, and last night at dinner 
she refused to let me have any cotfee. She said it 
would ruin my complexion !” 

The marchioness roared with laughter. ^'How 
like old Henny that is ! She always was a boss, 
but I don’t blame you for objecting. I let her 
seem to boss me just for the fun of it. I have 
known her since first coming to Paris and under- 
stand how good she is at bottom, but wild horses 
could not drag me to spend a night in her house. 
I ask her to la Roche-Craie every year and try to 
give her a rest, (she really works awfully hard,) 
but she is so busy there trying to change my 
housekeeper’s methods and rearrange the linen 
presses that she gets very little rest after all. 
Jean cannot stand her, but my son Philippe sees 
the good in her that I have brought him up to see ; 
and then he clings to any and everything Amer- 
ican. I am anxious for you to know my husband 
and son and for them to meet you. Do you know 
French ?” 


n MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

''Mother speaks better French than I do m 
spite of my work at college/' confessed Molly. 

"Well, I studied French with the old time 
method more as we study Latin, and while my 
accent is vile, my verbs are all right. I am going 
to try to brace up in accent, and Molly and Judy 
are endeavoring to perfect themselves in gram- 
mar. But you have not met our friend Judy, 
Miss Julia Kean," said Mrs. Brown. 

"No, I have not, but from all the complaints 
Henny Pace has made of her, I know she must be 
charniing. When Henny gives a boarder a good 
character, I know without meeting her that she is 
some spineless old maid who is afraid to call her 
soul her own, or that she is a hypocrite like me 
who wants peace at any price. Now she tells me 
that Miss Kean is head-strong, self-willed, flip- 
pant, slangy, ill-bred, inconsiderate " 

"Oh, how could she tell such things?" inter- 
rupted Molly. "Why, Cousin Sally, Judy is splen- 
did! She is independent and knows her own 
mind, and all of us are a little slangy, I am 
afraid; but she is very well-bred and Mother 
says the most considerate visitor she has ever 
had." 

"Well, child, her report of your friend had no 


LA MARQUISE 93 

effect on me but to make me want to meet the 
young lady, so I can judge for myself. I want 
you and your mother to come and dine with us 
this evening at six-thirty and to bring Miss Kean 
with you. We will go to the opera to hear Louise, 
It is wonderful and I know you will like it,’’ and 
la Marquise d’Ochte smiled on her young Ken- 
tucky cousin and pressed her hand, pleased to see 
how she could speak up for her friend. 

'*We shall be delighted to come,” said Mrs. 
Brown, ''and I know Judy will appeal to you. She 
is a dear child and as free from affectation as you 
yourself. Now, Sally, tell me how we must go to 
work to find an apartment and where we should 
settle ourselves. We are far from affluent and 
want something inexpensive but, of course, re- 
spectable. Judy is to be with us; also a Miss 
Elise O’Brien, whose acquaintance we made on 
the steamer. You know so many persons, I won- 
der if you ever met her mother: she was a Miss 
Lizzie Peck, who married a young artist, George 
O’Brien, some twenty-five years ago here in 
Paris. At his death she married Mr. Hunting- 
ton.” 

"Know Lizzie Peck? I should say I did, — the 
outrageous piece! You see, before Jean sue- 


94 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHAED HOME 

ceeded to the estate and before I had my windfall 
from Aunt Sarah Carmichael, we lived in a very 
small way and our principal society was in Bohe- 
mia. At that time Lizzie Peck was the beauty of 
the Latin Quarter. She was supposed to be 
studying art, and indeed she was quite clever. 
But she was such a belle and so busy drawing 
young men to her, that she did not give much time 
to any other drawing. George O'Brien was much 
too good for her in every way. He was one of the 
wittiest men I ever knew and good nature itself. 
It is to be hoped that the daughter EHse inherited 
a disposition from him and not from the flirta- 
tious Lizzie. Jean always insisted that there was 
an understanding between Tom Kinsella and Liz- 
zie, but I hardly think a man as keen as Tom 
could ever have been taken in by the likes of Liz- 
zie," and the marchioness got up preparatory to 
making her departure. 

'Why, Mother, to think of Cousin Sally's 
knowing Mr. Kinsella, too! You liked him, 
didn't you. Cousin Sally?" asked Molly eagerly. 
"He was on our steamer and so kind to us." 

"Yes, my dear, I liked him very much and 
should like to see him again, and so would my 
Jean. I fancy a great many persons are kind to 


LA MAEQUISE 


95 


my little cousin/’ and she pinched Molly’s blush- 
ing cheek. ‘‘Now, Milly, don’t worry for one 
moment about an apartment as I am almost sure 
I know of a place that will just suit you. It is a 
studio apartment on the Rue Brea, just across the 
Luxembourg Garden from here. It belongs to an 
American artist named Bent. He and his wife 
are going to Italy for the winter and would be 
delighted to rent it furnished, I am sure. It is 
very superior to many of the studios in the Latin 
Quarter as it has a bathroom. But I am not go- 
ing to tell you any more about it until I find out 
if you can get it, what the price is, and just what 
sleeping accommodations it has. I have my 
limousine at the door and shall go immediately to 
the Rue Brea, and to-night when you come to us 
for dinner I can tell you more. Au revoir, then, 
my long lost cousin,” and she kissed Mrs. Brown 
on both cheeks. 

“That is the first Frenchy thing she has done 
yet,” thought Molly ; and then when the elevator 
had slowly descended out of hearing distance she 
remarked to her mother: “How could anyone 
live in a foreign country for almost thirty years 
and stay so exactly like ‘home folks’? Cousin 
Sally’s accent is much more southern than yours 


96 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

and mine. Did you notice her 'sure' was almost 
'sho' and she spoke of Lizzie Peck's dra-a-win' 
young men? I love her for keeping the same. 
And oh what fun to be going there to dinner ! I 
can hardly wait for Judy to come home from the 
studio to tell her." 

Mrs. Brown was equally pleased with her cous- 
in's having remained so unaffected and looked 
forward with much pleasure to renewing the girl- 
hood intimacy, and also to meeting the Marquis 
d'Ochte, of whom his wife spoke so enthusiasti- 
cally as ''my Jean," and the son Philippe. She 
had some misgivings about the son because the 
literature of the day does not paint a young 
Frenchman in particularly desirable colors as the 
companion of girls ; but she hoped that the moth- 
er's innate good sense had served to bring up the 
boy in the proper way. Then Molly and Judy 
could meet him as they would any young man 
from their own country, and he would under- 
stand their easy freedom of manner and of 
speech, different, she well knew, from that of the 
unmarried French girl. She determined to say 
nothing to the girls of the difference, as she did 
not want them changed or embarrassed by self- 
consciousness, and she felt sure of their having 


LA MAEQinSE 


97 


breeding and savoir faire to carry them through 
any situation with flying colors. 

As the marchioness had indicated, she had 
married before Jean had succeeded to the estates 
and indeed before he had any idea of being the 
heir presumptive. His uncle, the Marquis 
d’Ochte, was at the time a comparatively young 
man, a widower with a son of twelve; and every- 
one expected that he would marry again and per- 
haps have other sons. Jean d'Ochte, when she 
met him, was a rising young journalist, making, 
however, but a meager salary. His father was 
dead. His mother, Madame d’Ochte, was a very 
superior woman and recognized Sally Bolling's 
worth in spite of the fact that she had but a tiny 
dot to bestow at her marriage. She saw her son's 
infatuation for the American girl and gave her 
consent to the marriage, without which, as is the 
law in France, they could not have been wed. 
Sally's alliance gave her the entree into the most 
exclusive homes of the Faubourg St. Germain but 
she was not a whit impressed by it. She took her 
honors so simply and naturally that she won the 
hearts of all her husband's connection and they 
ended by applauding the leniency of Madame 


98 MOLLY BEOWN^S OECHAED HOME 

d’Ochte in permitting the match, which they had 
formerly condemned as sentimental. 

Jean and his wife spent their first married 
years living in the simplest style and Sally learned 
the economy for which the French are famous. 
Then came the windfall of fifty thousand dollars 
from Aunt Sarah Carmichael, which reconciled 
the exclusive Faubourg more than ever to the 
match ; and then the death of the little cousin of 
Jean’s, making him his uncle’s heir; and finally 
the death of the uncle, which gave Jean the title 
of Marquis d’Ochte. It meant giving up his pro- 
fession, to which he was much attached; but the 
estates had to be looked after and the dignity of 
the title maintained; and now there was leisure 
for the reading and writing of plays, which had 
been his secret ambition. 

Sally made a delightful marchioness. She had 
been accustomed to the best society in Kentucky 
and she declared good society was the same all 
over the world; as far as she could see the only 
way to get on was just to be yourself and not put 
on airs. She was very popular in the select circle 
to which the title of Marquise d’Ochte admitted 
her but she did not confine herself to that circle; 


LA MAEQUISE 


99 


she knew all kinds and conditions of people, and 
never forgot a friend, no matter how humble. 

Judy was very much excited at the prospect of 
dining with a live member of the old nobility, but 
her excitement was nothing to that of Mrs. Pace. 
That lady, when she received the message from 
Mrs. Brown telling her they would not be at home 
for dinner as they would dine out, immediately 
climbed to the seventh story to find out where 
they were to dine, and on being informed of their 
destination, she went off into transports of de- 
light. Her ardor was somewhat dampened when 
it was divulged that Judy was to be one of the 
party. 

''Sally is very good natured but entirely too 
democratic for her position as the wife of one of 
the very oldest of the nobility in France. Of 
course she asked Miss Kean because of her 
friendship with your daughter,'’ panted the irate 
dame, out of breath from her climb up two flights. 

"I don't believe that was the only reason," said 
Molly, rather glad to give Mrs. Pace a dig after 
her report of her darling Judy. "Cousin Sally 
said she had been anxious to meet Miss Kean 
from what you had told her of my friend; so you 


100 MOLLY BKOWN’S OECHARD HOME 

are really responsible for the pleasure in store for 
her/^ 

'"Well, I only hope she appreciates the honor 
done her/^ spluttered Mrs. Pace. ‘What are you 
going to wear? A dinner in the Faubourg and 
the Opera afterward calls for the very best in 
your wardrobe.’’ 

“Perhaps you had better advise us about our 
clothes,” said Mrs. Brown sweetly, remembering 
what her cousin had said of Mrs. Pace’s kind 
heart and how she humored her by seeming to let 
her boss her. “I have a very pretty black crepe 
de Chine. I think I am too old to go decollete, 
but I am sure this is suitable, especially as I have 
nothing else.” 

“It is perfectly suitable, and if you take my ad- 
vice you will wear it and leave the neck exactly as 
it is with that lovely old lace finishing it off in a 
V. For pity sakes, don’t tell Sally you are too 
old for low necks as she is about your age and 
wears decollete gowns on every occasion where 
one is warranted,” said Mrs. Pace, much pleased 
at being taken into anyone’s confidence on the 
subject of clothes or anything else. 

Molly, taking her cue from her mother, then 


LA MAEQUISE 101 

got out her dress and showed it to the eager land- 
lady. 

‘‘It is lovely and just your color. Sally used to 
be given to that blue when she was young, but she 
says now she is too big and red to wear anything 
but brown or black. You must have a taxi to go 
in. I will attend to it for you. I hope Miss 
Kean will not do herself up in any fantastic, 
would-be artistic get-up, but will do you and your 
daughter credit, to say nothing of me, after I 
have got her this invitation,’’ and Mrs. Pace bus- 
tled off, filled with importance. 

Mrs. Brown and the girls, left alone at last, 
dressed themselves with the greatest care for the 
occasion, realizing what it meant to dine with 
the nobility and then go to the far-famed Opera. 

“Only think, the tomb of Napoleon, dinner with 
a marquis and the Opera, all in one day! I al- 
most wish we had put off the tomb until to-mor- 
row. Our impressions are coming too fast,” ex- 
claimed Molly. 


CHAPTER VII. 


the: faubourg. 

At the toot of the horn, the porte cochere of the 
Hotel d'Ochte was thrown open by a venerable 
porter and the taxi containing Mrs. Brown and 
the girls swept into the court in great style. How 
beautiful it was! The soft color of the stone 
walls blended with the formal box bushes and 
tubs of oleanders; here and there a wrought-iron 
lantern projected from the pilasters; rows of 
snub-nosed caryatides held up little balconies, 
also of wrought iron, of the most delicate design 
and workmanship. Judy held her breath at the 
effect of line and color and wondered if she would 
ever know the inmates well enough to be allowed 
to make a picture of the court. 

They were met in the hall by the most gracious 
and least formal of hostesses and taken immedi- 
ately to her boudoir to remove their wraps. 

^‘And this is Miss Julia Kean, the friend of my 
cousin, as the easy lessons in French put it. I am 
afraid I shall just have to call you Judy, my dear, 
103 


THE FAUBOURG 


103 


and not start out trying to ^miss’ you. And Molly 
in my own blue ! Ah, child, for the first time in 
my life I tremble for the affections of my Jean ! 
There is something about the combination of that 
particular blue with red hair that goes to his 
head. Milly, you are beautiful! How proud I 
am of my kin !” And the marchioness chattered 
on, leading them down a long, dim hall, hung with 
tapestries and armor, to the library. 

'We live in our library. It is so much cosier 
than the great salon and we feel more at home in 
the smaller room; and here we can talk without 
having to shout across space.^^ 

The door was opened at their approach by 
Philippe who bowed low as they entered and 
stood aside, while they were introduced to his 
father, the Marquis d’Ochte. 

The marquis was a very interesting-looking 
man, tall for a Frenchman, with merry brown 
eyes and a black, closely cut, pointed beard. His 
hair was iron gray, thick and rather bushy. His 
manner was very cordial and all of the ladies 
were secretly relieved to find that he spoke Eng- 
lish fluently, if with an accent. 

Philippe was a handsomer man than his father, 
having that rare combination of coloring: dark 


104 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 


eyes and golden hair. He wore a pointed beard, 
too, as is the almost invariable custom of French- 
men ; his eye was as merry as his father's and he 
had inherited his mother’s strong chin, big honest 
mouth and perfect teeth. The d’Ochte family 
certainly made a wonderfully fine looking trio. 
The marchioness was radiant in black velvet and 
diamonds, her neck and arms beautiful and white, 
her abundant hair parted in the middle and done 
in a loose knot on her neck. She was a very dis- 
tinguished looking woman and worthy to take her 
place with royalty as well as with the nobility. 
Years had touched her but lightly ; but the eternal 
youth in her heart, as in that of Mrs. Brown, 
was what gave her the charm of expression and 
manner. 

Cordial relations were established immediately 
between old and young. 

‘‘There is nothing like a good American hand- 
shake to make strangers acquainted,” said the 
host, looking admiringly at his wife’s cousins and 
their attractive companion, Judy, who in spite of 
Mrs. Pace’s fears that she might get herself up in 
“paint rags,” was most artistically gowned in old- 
rose messaline. “It is more pleasure than I can 
express to meet the cousins of my Sara; also 


THE FAUBOURG 


105 


Mademoiselle Kean, of whom we have heard 
much from the respected Madame Pace,’^ he 
added with a mischievous twinkle. 

‘‘Heavens, how must I behave if Mrs. Pace has 
already given me a character?’’ exclaimed Judy. 
“Must I be as she says I am, or must I be as she 
wants me to be ?” 

“Be yourself, and you will be as we want you,” 
said the marchioness, kindly. “Jean and Philippe 
do not have the chance to meet many American 
girls and they do not, as a rule, care to meet 
Henny’s boarders, who are usually dry-as-dust 
old maids, especially the ones Henny recom- 
mends.” 

“Oh, please don’t change yourselves, any of 
you,” begged Philippe in a voice and accent so 
southern that it was amusing coming from a veri- 
table Frenchman. “All my life, I have longed 
to meet some of my cousins and to hear more of 
the Kentucky stories, and of Chatsworth and the 
Carmichael place. Does Cousin Sarah Carmich- 
ael, Mrs. Clay, I believe she is now, still take the 
biggest piece of cake, and are the beech trees as 
beautiful as they were when my mother used to 
play under them with you. Cousin Mildred?” 

“Oh, Philippe, you should not tell tales out of 


106 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


school! Sarah is Milly’s sister and she might 
not like the cake reminiscences. Sarah was 
mighty grabby, though, wasn’t she, Milly ? I am 
afraid she will never forgive me for getting the 
legacy from Aunt Sarah Carmichael. You see 
we were both named for her and Sarah naturally 
expected an equal division if not the 'biggest 
piece of cake,’ and when the whole fifty thousand 
came to me, it was a sad blow to Sarah. But she 
was quite comfortable and Jean and I were the 
needy members of the family, as far as money 
went. That was all we did need as we had every- 
thing else,” and the marchioness laid her hand 
lightly on her husband’s bushy hair whence he 
gently drew it down to his cheek. 

Mrs. Brown could not help smiling over Sister 
Clay and the big piece of cake. She remembered 
how the two Sarahs had always been at daggers 
drawn. Her sister was much older than Sally 
Bolling and had always been critical of the lively 
girl who had repaid her by laughing at her and 
cracking jokes at her expense. 

"Yes indeed, Philippe, the beeches are even 
more beautiful having had some years since then 
to grow. Trees are one of the things that im- 
prove with age. I hope you will come to Ken- 


THE FAUBOURG 


107 


tucky and make us a long visit and see all of your 
kin and their homes/' said Mrs. Brown cordially. 

''That would be fine, if the mother and father 
could come, too. You don't know how beautiful 
your southern tongue sounds to me. Cousin Mil- 
dred. You say 'kin' just as my mother does and 
as I do. I am laughed at by my English friends 
for my way of speaking their language, but I 
would not give up my southern accent for 
worlds." 

Dinner was announced, interrupting Philippe, 
and they made their way to the salle a manger. 
The marquis gave his arm to Mrs. Brown; Judy 
fell to the share of the handsome young son; 
and the marchioness put her arm affectionately 
around Molly's waist. 

"My dear," she said, "having you with us is a 
pleasure, indeed. I wish I had a daughter just 
like you. I think your mother might spare you 
to me. She has two other daughters and four 
sons. That is too much for any woman." 

"You had better not say that to mother," 
laughed Molly. "The only time I ever saw her 
lose her temper with Aunt Clay, who would try 
the patience of a saint, was when Aunt Clay inti- 
mated that it would be much more economical if 


108 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


there had been only half of us, three children and 
a half instead of seven. I was a tiny little girl, 
but I can remember how I crawled under the table 
I was so scared. I had never seen mother get 
really mad before and she turned on Aunt Clay 
in such a rage that I felt sorry for her. You 
know it must have been pretty bad if I felt sorry 
for Aunt Clay, for she is the one person in the 
world I can’t like.” 

^‘Molly, we are alike in more ways than one! 
She is an abomination unto me! Sarah Clay 
made my childhood unhappy. You see, I had no 
regular home as my mother and I were very poor. 
We spent much of our time visiting and Cousin 
George Carmichael, your grandfather, was good- 
ness itself to us. The Carmichael place was more 
like home than any other to me. I simply loved 
it and spent many happy hours playing with your 
dear mother ; but Sarah never lost a chance to rub 
it in on me that I was in a measure a depen- 
dent. As a child it would cut me to the quick; 
but as I got older and made my visits at Cousin 
George’s, I would retaliate by making game of 
my older cousin ; and no one can abide being made 
fun of. I tell you I gave her tit for tat and usu- 
ally came out ahead. But we must stop this whis- 


THE FAUBOURG 


109 


paring. Your mother can’t stand any criticism 
of her sister. Some day we can get together and 
say all the mean things weVe a mind to about old 
Sarah Then the marchioness was transformed 
in the twinkling of an eye from the naughty Sally 
Bolling to the gracious hostess, seeing that her 
guests were seated and leading the conversation 
into the most agreeable channels. 

The dinner was perfect, every detail in absolute 
taste, served beautifully but with an elegant sim- 
plicity. Molly made mental notes on the sauce 
with the fish, trying to find out without asking 
what was in it ; and then the gravy with the filet 
of beef occupied her attention. Such a wonder- 
ful gravy with a character all its own. She re- 
membered what Edwin Green had told her of the 
Frenchman who was visiting America. When 
asked his impressions of the country, he had said: 
''America is a country with a thousand different 
religions and one sauce.” She wondered what 
Miss Morse would think of this gravy, and smiled 
as she recalled the lecture on gravies delivered by 
that highly educated teacher of domestic science 
and the smooth, perfect specimen she demon- 
strated, with no more flavor than Miss Morse 
herself. 


110 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


‘What is the little joke my Cousin Mollee is 
having all to herself/’ asked the marquis. 

Molly frankly confessed what had made her 
smile, since her cousin wanted to know, and of 
course in her confession praise of the gravy had 
to be included. 

“Brava, brava,” and the Marquis d’Ochte 
clapped his hands. “She is like my Sara in all 
ways. She is also a discriminator in foods. This 
gravy, my dear Mademoiselle, is the chef 
d' oeuvre of my chef. You notice the butler, 
Jules, has left the room. Pourquoi does he go? 
He cannot wait to tell Gaston, the chef, that Ma- 
dame’s cousin from across the seas has been so 
gracious as to praise his work of art. If you will 
turn ever so little you will see the happy face of 
Gaston peeping in to view the beautiful young 
lady.” 

Molly turned, and sure enough, tip-toeing to 
see over the shoulder of Jules the butler, was 
Gaston, his face radiant. 

“Molly is a wonderful cook herself,” said Judy. 
“She has an instinct for food that is truly re- 
markable. At college an invitation to a Molly 
Brown spread was looked upon with greater rev- 
erence than being asked to have tea with the 


THE FAUBOUKG 111 

President. But has she not learned from Aunt 
Mary, that dear old colored woman who cooks 
like an angel? We trembled for fear that the 
domestic science teacher would ruin Molly’s touch 
and make her too academic, but I hope it hasn’t/' 

"'Dear Aunt Mary, I had almost forgotten 
her !” exclaimed the marchioness. "Don’t tell me 
you can make Aunt Mary’s spoon corn bread, 
Molly! If you can. I’ll make the Bents move out 
of their studio to-morrow so you can move in. 
And I’ll come to live with you and get you to 
make me some for every meal until all the corn- 
meal to be purchased at the American grocers’ is 
used up !” 

"Indeed she can, Sally, and many things be- 
sides. Aunt Mary has initiated her into all the 
secrets of her trade,” said Mrs. Brown. "I re- 
member so well hearing the old woman say to 
Molly, when she was a little girl, 'Ef you wan' ter 
know how ter make bread, you have ter begin at 
de beginnin'. Now yeast is de fust an' maindest 
thing and tater yeast is the onliest kin’ fit ter use, 
an' you can’t git taters ’thout diggin’ ’em ; so f er 
the fust step, s'pose you go an' dig some taters.' 
So, you see, my Molly can do it all.” 

"Oh, how I love to hear about Aunt Mary!” 


112 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


sighed Philippe, I to have some of this 

ambrosial bread, too, Cousin Molly 

'"Yes, indeed, but I am afraid the meal we get 
in Paris will not be right. Tell us. Cousin Sally, 
about the studio in the Rue Brea. Can we get it ? 
We have had so many things to talk about, we 
have not asked you about it.'' 

''The Bents expect to go to Italy for six 
months and are very much pleased to have good 
tenants in their absence. I am going to take you 
and your mother and Miss Kean, if she can come, 
to see the place to-morrow morning. The rent is 
reasonable, ridiculously cheap even, one himdred 
and twenty-five francs a month." 

Mrs. Brown's face fell at the rental named by 
her cousin. The marchioness saw it and gave a 
merry laugh. "I know just what you are doing, 
Milly ; you are thinking in dollars, I said a hun- 
dred and twenty-five francs; that is only twenty- 
five dollars." 

"Oh, how silly I am! I did think you meant 
dollars. Of course, that is cheap and well within 
our means. We are so grateful to you, Sally, 
and I am sure it will suit," said Mrs. Brown, 
blushing at her mistake, which she need not have 


THE FAUBOURG 


113 


done as it is no easy matter to think in foreign 
money. 

The dinner went gaily on. Molly and Judy 
told Philippe all about Wellington College, and he 
in turn had much to tell them of Nancy, where he 
had been studying forestry after his course at the 
Sorbonne, The marquis and marchioness had 
many questions to ask Mrs. Brown of the rela- 
tives in Kentucky. The talk was interesting and 
delightful and they felt as though they had 
known one another always. 

They lingered over their coffee and cheese un- 
til the butler announced that the limousine was at 
the door ready to take them to the Opera. There 
was a general move for wraps ar d gloves, but 
Philippe stopped his mother long enough to em- 
brace her and whisper in her ear : ^'Both of them 
are jewels and I can't tell which one is the more 
precious"; and Molly and Judy, unconscious of 
their being rivals, hugged each other in Cousin 
Sally's boudoir and said in chorus: ‘‘What an 
Adonis !" 


CHAPTER VIII. 


THE) OPE:rA. 

The ride through the brilliantly lighted streets ; 
across the Seine with its myriad of small boats 
with their red and green lanterns; through the 
Place du Carrousel where the Louvre loomed up 
dark and mysterious; under the arch and across 
the Rue de Rivoli; then into the Avenue de 
rOpera, seemed to Mrs. Brown and Molly the 
very most delightful experience of their ‘‘great 
adventure./^ It was an old story to Judy but one 
she cOtild not hear too often, this Paris at night; 
and the marchioness confessed that after thirty 
years, the Avenue, if you approached it as they 
were doing, gave her a thrill that was ever new 
and wonderful. They proceeded slowly, as the 
procession of automobiles was endless. 

“The horse is almost an extinct animal in 
Paris,’’ said the marquis to Mrs. Brown, who had 
remarked that she feared she was coming to 
Paris too late to see the much written of type of 
“cab, cab horse and cabby.” One sees occasion- 
114 


THE OPEEA 


115 


ally a specimen of the old days : rickety cab, thin 
horse and fat, red-faced cocker; but such an 
equipage seems to be in demand only by the very 
timid who are afraid to trust themselves to the 
modern means of locomotion. Those poor souls 
are not, as a rule, on the boulevards at this hour, 
but shut snugly behind doors, locked and barred, 
safe from the ‘'dread Apaches and all the terrors 
of the night.” 

‘T love automobiles,” exclaimed Molly, “but 
nothing could ever take the place of a horse to 
me, even a poor, abused, old cab horse.” 

“Ah then, you can ride!” cried the delighted 
Philippe. “And you, too. Miss Kean? Ameri- 
can girls are the finest on earth surely,” (only he 
said “sholy”). “We have horses at Roche Craie 
and all of us ride. Mother is a splendid horse- 
woman.” 

“Yes indeed, I am going to ride just as long as 
a horse can be found big enough to carry me,” 
laughed the marchioness. “Sometimes I think 
my poor beast must look like a pet duck I had 
when I was a child. It got run over by a wagon, 
and my old mammy said, ‘Yo’ lil duck got run 
over, honey chile. He is right down in the back 
but still able to bear up !’ 


116 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

''But it is fine that you girls can ride, and when 
you come to visit us at Roche Craie you can have 
some famous gallops. I hate the English riding 
horse with his eternal trotting and the rider 
working himself to death posting. Our horses 
are good Kentucky riding stock with gaits. I 
hope you brought your riding habits.’’ 

"I did!” and "I did!” said Molly and Judy al- 
most in the same breath. 

"I never move without my riding habit, bath- 
ing suit and skates,” declared Judy. "I learned 
my lesson about my bathing suit once when I 
spent the summer in camp with Papa. I did not 
know we would have any bathing worthy the 
name and did not put mine in the trunk. When 
we got there we found that the only form of bath 
that could be had was in a creek as there was not 
even a basin in camp, and there was I without a 
bathing suit ! Papa was furious at my stupidity. 
We were miles from any kind of shop. 'Neces- 
sity is the mother of invention,’ so I took a big 
laundry bag, cut slits for arms and legs, tied the 
draw string around my neck, and with a neat belt 
I looked quite chic. It did not give me much 
freedom for swimming but I could at least get 
the necessary bath.” 


THE OPEEA 


117 


Every one roared at the picture Judy drew of 
herself tied up in the laundry bag and just then 
they got out of the jam on the Avenue, crossed 
the great Boulevard des Italiens, and stopped at 
the beautiful entrance to the Opera. 

The d'Ochte box was in the first tier and 
proved very roomy and comfortable, commanding 
an excellent view of the house as well as the 
stage. 

“We have come early on purpose,’’ said the 
marchioness, “as I wanted you to see the house 
fill. I can point out any celebrities I happen to 
know before the performance begins.” 

The girls and Mrs. Brown were seated in the 
front, with the host and hostess and their son in 
the back of the box. There were two extra seats, 
but madame declared that she liked to have some 
left for visitors. 

'^Louise is the opera of all others to introduce 
strangers to Paris,” explained Philippe to Molly. 
“It is Paris, Paris sounds, Paris sights, the 
tragedy and comedy of Paris.” 

Molly was devoutly thankful that she had 
bought the libretto of the opera of Louise when 
she and her mother had ventured out to see the 
tomb of Napoleon after the visit of Cousin Sally 


118 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


in the morning ; and when they were taking their 
much needed rest before dressing for dinner in 
the Faubourg, she had read it aloud to her 
mother. 

“I was so afraid I might miss something,’’ she 
explained ingenuously to her cousin. ‘‘You see, 
mother and I want to see and hear everything we 
can. We have done so little traveling and seen 
so little in our lives that this coming to Paris is 
like a visit to fairyland to us. I am afraid I’ll 
wake up and find it is all a dream.” 

“I feel as though I were in a dream, too,” said 
Philippe. “I have had so little chance to talk to 
girls like you and Miss Kean. La jeune fille, bien 
elevee, in France is so missish and afraid to speak 
out to a man. You and your friend look me 
straight in the eye without the least affectation of 
timidity, just as though you were boys instead of 
girls; and at the same time you are delightfully 
feminine. It is a strange thing to me to watch 
one of these girls of my country, with downcast 
eyes and so much modesty she can hardly speak 
above a whisper. The moment she becomes ma- 
dame all this timidity disappears, and in the 
twinkling of an eye she is the charming young 
married woman, full of all the arts and graces. 


THE OPERA 


119 


The transformation is so sudden, it makes one 
doubt the sincerity of the former modesty. 
Mother says the French girl is thus because it is 
what the average Frenchman wants, the old story 
of supply and demand. But I am half Anglo- 
Saxon and want no such person for my wife. My 
mother has spoiled me, and I can never be happy 
with a hypocrite.’^ 

Molly smiled, thinking that while her cousin 
was declaring himself Anglo-Saxon, he was cer- 
tainly not talking like one. Such candor is seldom 
seen in the male Anglo-Saxon. His warmth and 
fervor were decidedly French. 

The house was beginning to fill and many 
glasses were leveled at the box of Madame la 
Marquise d’Ochte. The general verdict was that 
it was a very effective grouping. Certainly there 
were not two middle-aged women in the whole 
audience more distinguished looking or hand- 
somer than the marchioness and her cousin; nor 
were there two fresher or sweeter looking girls, 
charming in their eagerness to see and not for 
one moment conscious that they were attracting 
any attention. The marquis and Philippe formed 
a pleasing background of masculinity to these 
beautiful women. 


120 MOLLY BEOWN^S ORCHARD HOME 

The opening scene, Louise's garret room in her 
father’s house with the view through the window 
of her lover’s studio; the duet with her lover in 
which she tells him of her father’s refusal to their 
marriage ; and then her promise to run away with 
him in event of her parent’s persisting in his 
hard-hearted resolution to separate them, seemed 
to Molly most wonderful and touching; but when 
the mother came in and berated the lover, Julien, 
as ''a rascal, a starveling, a dissipator” ; and when 
Louise defended him as being ‘'so good, so coura- 
geous,” and the mother retaliated by calling him 
the pillar of a wine shop and attempted to beat 
her daughter, Molly covered her eyes and wept, 
all unconscious of the amused glances of the oc- 
cupants of the neighboring box. 

But in a moment she was watching again : The 
father has come in and there is some sort of re- 
conciliation between him and Louise, although 
her mother is still furious and slaps her in the 
face when she takes up for him ; then the father 
interferes and embraces Louise, and they are fin- 
ally all seated around the table, the mother with 
her sewing, the father with his pipe, when Louise 
starts to read aloud from the newspaper: “The 
Spring Season is most brilliant. All Paris is in 


THE OPERA 


121 


holiday garb/’ Louise stops reading and after 

a moment sobs: ‘Taris ” and the curtain 

slowly descends. 

There was a storm of applause, and Molly 
came to the realization that she was in a fair way 
to have a red nose if she did not control her emo- 
tions. She gave a sad little smile and hoped that 
Philippe would talk to Judy and let her be sure of 
herself before she trusted her voice. 

As she looked out over the '‘sea of upturned 
faces,” she saw Mr. Kinsella and Pierce in the 
pit. They were applauding vigorously but Mr. 
Kinsella had an eye on their box, evidently in 
hopes of recognition. Molly gave him a delighted 
bow and then told her mother and the marchion- 
ess of his presence. The marquis overheard her 
remark. 

"What! Do you mean my old friend, Tom 
Kinsella ? Where, where ? Point him out to me. 
ril go and bring him to our box.” 

He hurried out and made his way to where the 
Kinsellas were seated. The twenty-five years 
since he had seen his American friend were for- 
gotten. He remembered him as the glowing, en- 
thusiastic boy, for whom the whole Latin Quarter 
felt such sympathy when he had to give up his be- 


122 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 


loved art and go into business. It escaped his 
mind entirely that time had not stood still with 
Tom Kinsella any more than with him. Jean 
d’Ochte made a very natural mistake. He put 
his arm lovingly around Pierce and in his impul- 
sive French way said: ''Mon cher Tom, je fern- 
brasseT 

Pierce looked up, very much amused at being 
hugged at the Opera by a distinguished looking 
French gentleman with a black beard and bushy, 
gray hair. Mr. Kinsella rose from his seat and 
clasping the marquis by the hand, exclaimed : 

^'Jean, how splendid to meet you on this my 
first night in Paris after all these years ! Don’t 
apologize for mistaking my nephew for me,” and 
he introduced Pierce to him, calling him ‘'Mon- 
sieur d’Ochte,” being entirely ignorant of the fact 
of his old friend’s having inherited a title and es- 
tates. “Now tell me of Madame. I do hope I 
am to be allowed to see her.” 

"Certainment, my friend. She now awaits you 
in the box where we are entertaining Sara’s cous- 
ins, Mrs. and Miss Brown, of Kentukee, also a 
charming jeiine fille, by name Miss Kean.” 

Uncle and nephew were led, willing captives, 
to fill the unoccupied seats in the box. Mrs. 


THE OPERA 


123 


Brown and Molly were delighted to see them 
again, and Judy and Pierce plunged into a discus- 
sion of art schools and pictures. The marchion- 
ess was overjoyed to meet a friend from the old 
Bohemian days and her husband was like a boy 
in his enthusiasm over this long lost companion. 
Philippe looked a little sad and downcast, al- 
though he was studiously polite to the strangers. 
He had been having such a splendid time with the 
girls that he could not help resenting the inter- 
ruption to his pleasure caused by the entrance of 
these two Americans. He was secretly glad when 
the curtain went up and the whole party was 
forced to give their attention to the stage. 

The next act, in front of the wine shop, the 
lover Julien and his companions playing and mak- 
ing horseplay, had the note of true comedy and 
Molly could find nothing to weep over, for which 
she was truly thankful. She whispered to Mr. 
Kinsella that when there was anything to cry 
over, she simply had to cry, and he said : 

'T see you have what Mr. Dooley calls 'the 
stage delusion’. It is a delightful quality to feel 
the reality of the drama and not remember there 
is any 'behind the scenes’. I fancy at this min- 
ute Louise, who got a little husky in that duet 


124 MOLLY BKOWN^S ORCHARD HOME 

with Julien, when she promised to leave her 
mother and father and come to him, is off in her 
dressing room spraying her throat and gargling 
with peroxide to get her voice in trim for the 
third act. In that she has a long and very beau- 
tiful love scene in the little home at the apex of 
the Butte Montmartre where Julien takes her.’" 

“Why did you come to Paris so soon?” asked 
Mrs. Brown just then. “You meant to exhaust 
the sights of Antwerp before leaving, did you 
not?” 

“Well, you see the sights exhausted me before 
I exhausted them, and then, like Louise, I felt the 
call of Paris. We got in only an hour ago, and 
after a very hasty dinner came to the Opera. 
Louise seemed to me to be the very best introduc- 
tion I could give my nephew to this wonderful 
city.” 

“That is exactly what I have been saying to 
my cousin Molly !” broke in Philippe. “It seems 
to me that Charpentier has given the true Paris 
with all of its charm and its dangers. Of course 
one should see this opera for the first time in the 
spring of the year, as that is when Paris is most 
alluring and in that season the scene is laid.” 

“Molly, look in the second tier of boxes almost 


THE OPERA 


125 


directly opposite us and see if that good looking 
young woman in the rather outre gown is an ac- 
quaintance of yours/' said the marchioness. ‘‘She 
has been looking at our box steadily ever since we 
arrived." 

“Her face is familiar but I can’t place her. 
Judy, see if you know her," said Molly, as she ad- 
justed Mr. Kinsella’s opera glasses to her eyes. 
She and Judy got the focus at the same moment 
and exclaimed in unison: “Frances Andrews!" 

“She is a girl we knew in our freshman year at 
college" explained Molly to her Cousin Sally. 
“I remember she came to Paris to join her grand- 
mother, but we have never seen or heard of her 
since she left college. She was a very peculiar 
person but clever and bright, and always awfully 
nice to me." 

“Humph!" sniffed Judy. “I’d like to see the 
person who isn’t nice to you, you old saint ! The 
only thing I ever liked about Frances Andrews 
was that she got into bigger scrapes than I did 
and made my misdemeanors seem small in com- 
parison. She was clever enough. I’ll grant you 
that, but peculiar is a kind adjective to use in de- 
scribing that girl. Why, Molly, she was the most 
unpopular girl at Wellington. Even her own 


126 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


class did not stand by her. She was crooked, as 
crooked as a snake.'^ 

‘'Oh, Judy, there was a lot of good in Frances, 
but she got in bad with her class and could not re- 
deem herself somehow. She was so young, too, 
and I haven’t a doubt that she is vastly im- 
proved,” and Molly caught the eager eye of the 
handsome girl in the opposite box and gave her a 
cordial bow. 

In a moment an usher brought a card to the 
door of the d’Ochte box. On it was scrawled the 
following note : 

“Molly darling : I am wild to see you. Give me 
your address and I’ll come to-morrow. — Fran- 
ces. 

Molly wrote the address of the Maison Pace 
and said she would be glad to see her, but had an 
engagement for the time named. She was a lit- 
tle sorry that Frances had turned up, as she knew 
that Judy would refuse to see any good in her and 
did not know just how the very sophisticated 
young woman would impress her mother. But 
Molly was not one to turn her back on any one 
who was fond of her and she had always been 
sorry for Frances, feeling in the old days at col- 
lege that she had been too easily condemned by 


THE OPERA 


127 


her classmates. ‘'There was good in her,” reiter- 
ated Molly to herself, “and there still is, and I 
am going to be nice to her. Judy can be as stand- 
offish as she pleases. I know mother will be kind ; 
she always is.” 

The last act of Louise was the most wonderful 
of all and Molly felt herself becoming so filled 
with emotion that she feared she would spill over 
again. She was grateful to Mr. Kinsella when 
he said to her in an undertone : “The gargle evi- 
dently did her good as the huskiness has gone.” 
She smiled in spite of herself and the tears had 
to go. 

It was over all too soon. Louise's father, after 
he realizes that Louise has gone for good to her 
devoted lover in Montmartre, gazes through the 
garret window at Paris, which, lighted, seems 
like a thousand-eyed monster to the old man. He 
shakes his fist in a rage and cries, “Oh, Paris!" 

As they put on their wraps, Molly heard the 
marchioness whisper to her husband: “Ah, Jean, 
your mother was wise to let us marry, wise and 
good. How much better it would have been for 
this poor old man if he could have let youth have 
its say !” 

“Ah, my Sara, indeed she was. And now ma 


128 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


mere can still here the voice of Paris calling as 
did Louise in the first act, and she does not have 
to curse it as did la pere in the last" And the 
marquis disguised a fervent hug in the pretext of 
helping his wife with her cloak. 


CHAPTER IX. 


THK POSTSCRIPT. 

The Bents’ studic apartment proved to be ex- 
actly the thing for Mrs. Brown and the girls, and 
arrangements were made with the artist and his 
wife to have it turned over to them in ten days, 
which would just fill out their time at Maison 
Pace, 

The apartment consisted of a large studio, 
kitchenette and two small bedrooms. The plan 
was for Mrs. Brown to have one of the bedrooms 
and Elise O’Brien the other, while Molly and 
Judy, to their unbounded delight, were to sleep 
in a balcony that ran across one end of the studio. 
The Marquise d’Ochte explained to them that this 
was quite customary in Bohemia, and that she 
and her husband had occupied a similar roost for 
several years during their early married life. 

‘T am versed in many a makeshift and this 
minute could come to live in the Latin Quarter on 
half of what you, with your extravagant Amer- 
ican notions, will spend,” declared the marchion- 
129 


130 MOLLY BEOWN^S ORCHARD HOME 


ess, as she showed our friends over the apart- 
ment. “Now this is my advice for the conduct- 
ing of your menage, Milly, but I am not like 
Henny Pace to get riled if you do not take it. 
Get your own breakfast, which is a simple matter 
in France, having fresh rolls and butter sent in 
every morning and making your own coffee or 
chocolate; take your dejeuner a la fourchette, I 
mean your luncheon at a restaurant; and then 
leave your dinners to circumstances, sometimes 
having them at home or going out as the occa- 
sion offers. 

“Get a servant to come in and clean for you 
every morning by the hour, but do not have a 
regular bonne. It would be a useless expense 
and then there is no sense in your having to slave 
over housekeeping. The way for foreigners to 
become acquainted with Paris is to see the restau- 
rants, and there are so many you need not get 
tired of the cooking in any one. All I ask of you 
is to have a regular Kentucky supper for me some 

night with but never mind what with, it 

will be sure to be what I want if Molly cooks it.’’ 

Molly was busy inspecting the kitchenette, 
which Mrs. Bent was showing with much pride 
as it was quite unique in the Latin Quarter. 


THE POSTSCKIPT 


131 


There was a tiny gas range, a convenience not 
often enjoyed as gas was a luxury not as a rule 
afforded in Bohemia. The floor was of octago- 
nal, terra cotta tiles and there was a high mul- 
lioned window over the infinitesimal sink. Long- 
handled copper skillets and stew pans were 
ranged along the walls, suspended from hooks; 
and a strangely colored china press filled with an 
odd assortment of dishes was at one side. 

Mrs. Bent laughed when she saw Molly ex- 
amining the press. ^‘That is inherited from Mr. 
Bent’s student days. It is a plain deal closet, 
colored with palette scrapings. It is always a 
great stunt with students to make something like 
this. Mr. Bent has long ago outgrown it as a 
studio furnishing and will have nothing short of 
mahogany around him, but it is too roomy and 
useful for me to give up, so it is banished to the 
limbo of the kitchen. I have known students to 
clean their paletites many times a day just to get a 
little more scrapings on their presses.” 

The effect was a peculiarly deep, rich tone and 
Judy declared that she liked it. 

looks like the shadows in some of Monet’s 
landscapes, dark, but clear, with light all through 
them. Some day I am going to make a press just 


132 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


like this one if I have to clean my palette a hun- 
dred times a day to get scrapings/’ 

The apartment was on the ground floor and one 
entered across a very pretty paved court which 
had green tubs of evergreens here and there along 
the wall. The indoor studio balcony, where Judy 
and Molly were to sleep, had a long casement that 
opened on a tiny iron balcony which overhung the 
court. There were four similar balconies belong- 
ing to the neighboring studios and all had porch 
boxes filled with ivy or chrysanthemums, making 
a wonderful effect of color. 

Judy was Judy-like, entranced. She stepped 
upon the balcony and holding out her arms to the 
tubbed spruce trees, exclaimed in a melodramatic 
voice : 

'O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? 

Deny thy father and refuse thy name : 

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. 

And ril no longer be a Capulet.’ ” 

Suddenly what should she see, from the open 
door of the opposite studio, but the faun-like face 
of Pierce Kinsella, grinning delightedly at the 
unexpected encounter. He proved himself equal 
to the occasion and said in a low and feeling 


voice : 


THE POSTSCEIPT 


133 


'Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?’ ” 

And Judy came back with : 

" 'How cam’st thou hither, tell me, and where- 
fore? 

The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, 
And the place death, considering who thou art, 
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.’ ” 

And Pierce answered : 

" 'With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these 
walls ; 

For stony limits cannot hold love out. 

And what love can do that dares love attempt ; 
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.’ ” 

By this time Mr. Kinsella had come out into the 
court and Molly, hearing the spouting of so much 
poetry, joined Judy on the balcony to see what 
was going on. She and Mr. Kinsella applauded 
loudly until the windows of the two other bal- 
conies opened, and from one the head of a long- 
haired man and from the other that of a short- 
haired woman were poked out. 

"Poetry aside, Mr. Kinsella, what are you and 


134 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 


Pierce doing here in the Rue Brea?’' called Judy. 

‘We are looking at a studio that is for rent. 
And what are you doing here, please?” 

“Sitting under our own vine and fig tree, sir ! 
At least, it will be ours in about ten days,” an- 
swered Molly. 

“You don’t mean it! Well, if this isn’t luck! 
Pierce, I’ll go back and sign up with the concierge 
immediately. Such neighbors as these would 
make the meanest studio desirable and, after all, 
these are pretty good rooms. We could hardly do 
better in the Quarter.” 

Pierce was pleased to have the matter settled, 
as he felt himself to be among friends and had 
visions of many good times in store for him after 
working hours with the three bright girls and 
Mrs. Brown, who was even more attractive to 
him than the girls. Mr. Kinsella had assured 
Mrs. Brown that EHse would be sure to fall in 
with any plans that good lady may have made for 
her, and he answered for Mrs. Huntington’s ac- 
quiescence in any arrangements he saw fit to 
bring about for her daughter. She had really 
washed her hands of the matter, and had given 
him to understand that since he had interfered 
and insisted upon Elise’s having a chance to go 


THE POSTSCRIPT 


135 


on with her much interrupted art studies, he could 
go ahead and place her where he chose. For her 
part, she declared, it made no difference one way 
or the other. She had seen too much of Bohe- 
mia in the old days to want ever to cross the bor- 
derland again. Mr. Kinsella felt sure she had se- 
cretly hoped that Mrs. Brown would want EHse 
with her, and he only awaited their arrival from 
Brussels to let them know of the studio apart- 
ment in the Rue Brea and of the cordial welcome 
Elise O’Brien would have from all three of the 
ladies concerned. 

The next ten days were very busy and exciting 
ones. Judy and Pierce plunged into their draw- 
ing with renewed zest. Pierce was at Julien’s, 
too, but as the men’s school is in an entirely dif- 
ferent part of Paris from the women’s, he and 
Judy saw each other only in picture galleries or 
on the delightful jaunts that the whole crowd 
took. The Maison Pace was not a very pleasant 
place to make a call, as there was always a bunch 
of snuffy old maids huddled together in the par- 
lor, knitting shawls and swapping tales of the 
good and bad pensions they had encountered in 
their travels. When a caller braved the ordeal, 
they always stopped knitting and talking and sat 


136 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


spellbound, intent on not losing one word of the 
visitor’s conversation. 

Mr. Kinsella and Pierce made one essay, but 
the occasion was so stiff and formal and Mrs. 
Pace so monopolizing that they determined never 
to repeat it, but to wait until their friends were 
installed in their own apartment. That longed- 
for time arrived quickly enough for Molly and 
her mother, who were sightseeing in a most sys- 
tematic manner, with Baedecker in one hand and 
Hare’s ''Walks in Paris” in the other. They 
would come home tired and footsore but very 
happy and enthusiastic. 

Molly wrote Professor Green that she felt like 
the little girl at the fair, who, when her mother 
noticed she lagged behind and asked her if she 
were tired, said: "My hands and feet are tired, 
but my face isn’t.” 

"We do become weary unto death but each 
morning we get up with renewed zest,” she wrote, 
"with so many wonderful things to see before 
nightfall. One thing that bothers us is having 
to dress and sit through a formal dinner with the 
eagle eye of Mrs. Pace upon us. We are look- 
ing forward to the time when we shall be in our 
own apartment, where we need not dress for din- 


THE POSTSCRIPT 


137 


ner unless we have a mind to. My Cousin Phil- 
ippe d’Ochte declares that already my mother and 
I know more about Paris than he does. We are 
trying to be systematic in our sight-seeing and 
not to hurry, as we have the winter before us, but 
at every corner and square there is something in- 
teresting to find out about. 

'Thilippe is very kind to us and ready to escort 
us through any parts of the city where he thinks 
it best for women not to go alone. For my part, 
I think we could go anywhere we wished. The 
Parisians are so obliging and courteous, and so 
far no one has been the least rude to us. The old 
maids in our pension have many tales to tell of the 
encounters they have had with impertinent men, 
and one lady declares that she never goes on the 
street without being insulted. But I agree with 
Mr. Kean who says: Tf you have some business 
to attend to — and attend to it, you women can go 
anywhere in the world you want to in perfect 
safety.’ 

'T have not begun my studies yet, as my time 
has been so taken up with seeing the places of in- 
terest, but Philippe is going to see that I am put 
in the proper class in French Lit. at the Sorbonne 
where he has obtained a very important degree. 


138 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 


He says there are several English and American 
'women there, so I shall not feel strange. 

‘1 am so glad your orchard home is coming on 
so well. Kent writes us that it is already begin- 
ning to look like a house. The rough stone chim- 
neys and foundations are lovely, I know, and will 
make such a beautiful support for English ivy. 

''We are looking forward to Christmas with 
great eagerness. This is the first Christmas I 
have had with my mother for five years and the 
first one she has spent away from all of her other 
children ever. I shall have to make a noise like 
seven Browns to keep her from being homesick.’’ 

Here Molly stopped and reflected that some of 
those five Christmases she had spent in the com- 
pany of Professor Edwin Green and she won- 
dered if he would remember it, too; and if he 
would miss her as she felt she was missing him, 
in spite of all the delightful things she was doing 
and seeing. "I know he is not thinking of me at 
all and I am a goose to waste any sentiment on 
him. I have never had a single letter from him 
I could not show mother and Judy. When Judy 
gets a letter from Kent she never shows it to us, 
but takes it to her own room and evidently gets 
great satisfaction from its perusal, as she always 


THE POSTSCRIPT 


139 


comes out beaming. Ah me! I am sure I shall 
die an old maid, — but anyhow I do not intend to 
knit shawls and sit around a boarding house talk- 
ing about the food 

When poor Professor Green received the let- 
ter, part of which is given above, he, too, was 
plunged into sad reflections. He reached for a 
pretty azure paper weight that always stood on 
his desk and reminded him of a certain pair of 
blue, blue eyes, and looking into it as though he 
were crystal-gazing, he shook his head mourn- 
fully and said : ''Ah, Molly, you little know how 
you hurt me ! And still, what right have I to ex- 
pect anything else from you? I see you now be- 
ing conducted around Paris by your Cousin Phil- 
ippe. I’ll be bound he thinks you need a courier 
even when you go to a Duval restaurant, the sly 
dog. I know his type: small and dark, with a 
pointed beard and insinuating manner. 

"Here I am tied to Wellington and these hated 
classes and lectures, when I hoped to be in Paris 
acting courier for Molly instead of this disgust- 
ing foreigner, who won’t know how to appreciate 

her But what an ass I am ! I don’t know 

that Philippe is disgusting, and from what Miss 


140 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 

Molly says of his mother, the marchioness, she 
must be charming. 

do wish she would not write so coolly of my 
'orchard home.’ I should think she would know 
by telepathy that I always think of it as 'Molly 
Brown’s Orchard Home.’ I was a fool to take 
Mrs. Brown’s advice and not tell Molly of my 
love. It may be too late now, and then what 
shall I do?” 

The distinguished professor of English at Wel- 
lington College groaned aloud. His housekeeper, 
who was bringing in his tea, heard him and al- 
most dropped the tray in her alarm. 

"And is it the schtomic ache ye be ah f ter 
havin’?” 

"No, Mrs. Brady, it is higher up than the stom- 
ach. I am glad to see my tea. 'The beverage 
which cheers but does not inebriate’ may make me 
feel better.” 

"Phwat ye need is a wife to look ahfter ye and 
keep ye straight. Schmokin’, schmokin’ all the 
time an’ brroodin’ over the fire is not good for a 
young gintleman. An’ your disk and floor lit- 
tered up wit’ paaperrs and ashes.” 

The kindly old soul began to clear off the un- 
tidy desk and stooped to pick up a piece of paper 


THE POSTSCRIPT 


141 


that had fallen from Molly’s letter without Pro- 
fessor Green’s having read it or noticed its exis- 
tence. She started to put it in the waste basket, 
but the professor noticed the action, being, like 
most scholars, impatient of having his books and 
papers touched. In fact, he had over his desk 
a framed rubbing of Shakespeare’s epitaph which 
he had once confided to Molly he kept there espe- 
cially to scare Mrs. Brady and make her let his 
things alone: 

''Good friend for lesus sake forbeare 
To digg ye dust encloased heare 
Bleste be ye man yt spares the stones 
And curst be he yt moves my bones.” 

"Wait, my good Mrs. Brady! What is that 
you are throwing away ?” 

"Nawthin’ but a bit o’ blue paaperr, Profissorr. 
To be shure there’s a schrap o’ writin’ on the 
back. Blue things always brring to me mind the 
swate eyes o’ Miss Molly Brown, the saints pro- 
tict her” and she handed the stray piece of thin, 
blue, foreign letter paper to the eager young man, 
who clutched it and smoothed it out and read the 
following postscript: 

"My cousins, the d’Ochtes, have been very anx- 
ious to get up a party and take us to Fontaine- 


U2 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


bleau to see the palace and then drive through 
the forest; but I have done everything to keep 
from going and I hope the scheme has fallen 
through. You have told me so much of the won- 
derful forest and the walk from Fontainebleau 
to Barbizon that I am hoping to see the place for 
the first time with you. The spring is the time to 
see it, anyhow, I am sure, and perhaps by then 
you can find a suitable substitute and have a 
holiday.^' 

Professor Green looked up from the perusal of 
the little half sheet of paper with his face beam- 
ing. What can't a woman put in a postscript? 
The pain, which he had confessed to Mrs. Brady 
was a little higher up than his stomach, had en- 
tirely disappeared. He was no longer jealous of 
'^any little, black, dried-up Frenchman." That is 
the way he thought of Philippe; and it was cer- 
tainly well for the young American's peace of 
mind that he did not know that Molly and Judy 
always spoke of Philippe d'Ochte as '‘the 
Adonis." 

"Mrs. Brady, your good, strong, hot tea has 
done wonders for me. I am feeling so much bet- 
ter, I am going to take your advice and go for a. 
long walk and not sit over the fire any longer." 


THE POSTSCEIPT 


143 


He accordingly unwound his long legs, put the 
little blue letter with its health-giving postscript 
carefully in his breast pocket, (right over the spot 
of the vanished pain!) and went for one of his 
fifteen-mile tramps, humming sentimentally, 
'When the robins nest again, and the flowers are 
in bloom/' 

Mrs. Brady looked after him and smilingly 
shook her head: "He may say it's the tay, but 
there was some preschription in that bit o’ blue 
paaperr I was ah f ter destroyin’ that was the 
pain-killer this toime for the poor young gintle- 
man. Me prrivit opinion is that he, too, is 
a-missin’ the swate eyes o' Miss Molly Brown I” 

Professor Edwin Green came home from his 
long walk in an excellent frame of mind, happy 
and tired; but he was not too tired to write to 
Molly a letter that somehow she forgot to read to 
her mother and Judy. 


CHAPTER X. 


BOHEMIA. 

What fun it was to be moving to their own 
apartment ! Mrs. Pace was the only drawback to 
their happiness. She was very lugubrious and 
was sure they would find the ground floor damp, 
although it was explained to her that there was a 
good cellar under the studio and you went up sev- 
eral steps to the entrance. For a week before 
they left her, she would emit groans and shake 
her head sadly, saying : ‘T know it is a great mis- 
take. These artists are notoriously careless and 
the place will be filthy, I haven’t a doubt. And 
then the expense of keeping house is so great. 
Never mind, I shall hold your rooms in readiness 
for you and you can come back to them at any 
time.” 

‘T beg you will do no such thing,” said Mrs. 
Brown. ^‘Of course we shall stay in the studio 
for six months, as we have rented it for that time. 

As for the dirt we are sure to find : you see Mrs. 

144 


BOHEMIA 145 

Bent is not an artist and she has the cleanest 
rooms I have ever seen/' 

But nothing convinced Henrietta Pace. She 
only knew that she was not to have the very pleas- 
ant boarders, so well connected, too, and so easy 
to please and courteous. Of course she blamed it 
on that very pert Miss Kean, who had defied her 
from the beginning; but what could one expect 
from a girl brought up in no place in particular, 
not even born in a fixed spot, (Julia Kean, you re- 
member, was born at sea,) with a father who 
openly boasted of having a gizzard? And Mrs. 
Pace would give what Judy called, ‘‘one of her 
black satin sighs." 

“Why should she dress in black satin all the 
time?" exclaimed Judy, after a particularly dis- 
mal dinner where Mrs. Pace had spent the time 
telling of all the misguided persons who had left 
her protecting wing and of the direful things that 
had befallen them. “The idea of any one as huge 
as she is wearing tight black satin ! Why, I no- 
ticed two great square high-lights on her, meas- 
uring six inches across, one on her arm and one 
on her capacious bosom. In the latter, the whole 
dinner table was reflected. She should wear soft, 


146 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


loose things where no accenting high-lights could 
find a foothold/" 

‘'Oh, Judy, you are too delicious!"’ laughed 
Molly. “Who but you would notice the high- 
lights on your landlady’s bosom, and then even 
the reflections in those high-lights ? But weren’t 
you amused at the ‘unmerciful disaster that fol- 
lowed fast and followed faster" all the boarders 
that had not stayed at Maison Pace? 

“One girl married a worthless art student and 
had to paint bathtubs for a living; one girl got 
lead poisoning in a studio where she was study- 
ing ; one lady got her pocket picked on the Bois de 
Boulogne and one poor gentleman was lost at sea. 
Two of these calamities certainly could not have 
happened in this place. I’d defy anyone to get 
married here, even to a worthless art student, nor 
could one very well get lost at sea. I am glad we 
are to leave to-morrow and also glad that Elise 
O’Brien will not come until we are installed in the 
Rue Brea.” 

Molly had seen Frances Andrews several times 
since the recognition at the Opera, and had found 
her very agreeable but still peculiar, passionate 
and moody. She was extravagant in her affec- 
tion for Molly and seemed eager to please Mrs. 


BOHEMIA 147 

Brown. On the one occasion in which she had 
seen Judy when she called at the Maison Pace, 
she had been embarrassed and ill at ease with her 
and a little wistful, Molly thought. 

She whispered to Molly on leaving: know 

Miss Kean despises me, but don’t let her influ- 
ence you. I am not as good as you think I am, 
but I am not half so bad as Miss Kean thinks I 
am. I got in wrong at Wellington and never 
could live down that scrape. Breaking the elev- 
enth commandment is a terrible mistake : getting 
found out, I mean. I really did not do anything 
nearly so bad as lots of the other girls: Judith 
Blount, for instance. She did mean things and I 
never did. I was my own worst enemy and 
harmed no one else.” 

‘Well, Judith Blount has ‘come through,’ as 
the darkeys say when they get religion, wonder- 
fully well. It was the best thing that ever hap- 
pened for her to become poor ; and then she had 
such a wise little friend, Madeleine Pettit, who 
showed her how to work. You know I am your 
friend, Frances, and always did like you. You 
must not think Judy Kean does not, too. I am 
sure she has no reason to dislike you,” and Molly 


148 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


bade her good-by with promises to come to call 
on her and her grandmother very soon. 

But Frances was not mistaken about Judy’s 
feelings for her. That young woman had a deep- 
seated dislike to the handsome, dashing Frances. 
‘T don’t trust her, Molly. She certainly did a 
dishonorable thing at college, and her eyes, al- 
though they are so beautiful, are a little shifty. 
I don’t want to like her and I don’t mean to, so 
there !” 

The Browns’ move from Boulevard St. Mich- 
ael amounted almost to a flitting in the eyes of 
Mrs. Pace, as they departed while she was at 
market and had to leave their good-bye with 
Alphonsine for their respected landlady. The 
Marquise d’Ochte sent her limousine to convey 
them to their new quarters, and knowing the hab- 
its of the redoubtable Henny, she deliberately had 
the chauffeur call very early for her cousins so 
that they could avoid the stormy good-bye she 
knew they would have to undergo. 

They found the apartment shining and beauti- 
ful, everything swept and garnished, a fire burn- 
ing in the big stove in the studio and a wonderful 
green bowl of chrysanthemums on the table. A 
little note was stuck in the flowers, bidding them 


BOHEMIA 


149 


welcome from the Bents and wishing them joy in 
the apartment where they had been so happy 
themselves. 

‘'Aren't they the nicest people you ever saw," 
exclaimed Mrs. Brown. “The place looks as 
though it had been arranged for honored guests 
instead of just renters. I don't see how they 
could have slept here last night, eaten breakfast 
here, and left everything in such apple pie order. 
I almost wish Mrs. Pace could see it, just to keep 
her from feeling so sorry for us. Now let's un- 
pack, put away our clothes, and make a list of 
what we need in the larder. When we go out 
for luncheon, we can do our purchasing." 

“Of course we'll have dinner at home to-night. 
Elise gets in at four-thirty and Mr. Kinsella says 
he thinks there will be no doubt about her coming 
straight to us. He is to meet them at the station 
and intends to put the question immediately to 
Mrs. Huntington, and if her answer is favorable, 
he will bring EHse to us bag and baggage; So 
Pierce told me when he stopped in on his way to 
the art school to see if he could be of any service 
to us in the move. Oh, my mother, aren't we go- 
ing to have a lovely time in our own little flat and 
away from that terrible dragon?" Molly kissed 


150 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


her mother and then flew up the steps of the bal- 
cony to the sleeping quarters that she and Judy 
were to occupy, just to peep out of the window 
into the court. Then she ran to the tiny kitchen. 
‘T am itching to get to work on that little gas 
stove and see how it cooks,’’ she exclaimed. 

^‘Now, Molly, there is one thing I am going to 
put my foot down about : you are not to be work- 
ing and cooking all the time we are in Paris. If 
this housekeeping is going to make you slave con- 
stantly, we will give it up and go back to Mrs. 
Pace. We will all share the work; the girls must 
do their part, too,” and Mrs. Brown looked quite 
serious and determined. 

‘T promise, Mumsy, not to overwork but please 
let me do most of the cooking. I simply love to 
cook and I know Judy can’t brew a cup of tea or 
boil an egg, and I fancy Elise has not had the 
kind of training that would make her very domes- 
tic. Of course. I’ll be studying myself before so 
very long at the Sorbonne, and then I am afraid 
you will be the one to be overworked.” 

Just then there was a knock at the door: it 
prdved to be the short-haired female artist from 
the adjoining studio. ‘T saw you had just moved 
in and I came to offer my assistance in settling 


BOHEMIA 


151 


you if you need me/^ she said in a voice singu- 
larly low and sweet for one of her very mannish 
appearance. 

Her sandy hair was parted on the side and 
rather tousled, she had a freckled face and a 
turned-up nose, and a broad, good-natured, 
clever looking mouth. Her clothes were just as 
near being a man’s as the law allowed: black 
Turkish trousers and a workman’s blouse with 
paint all over the back, giving it very much the 
effect of the Bents’ china press. Mrs. Brown and 
Molly looked at her wonderingly. She was a 
new and strange specimen to them. Their po- 
liteness was equal, however, to any shock and 
they thanked her for her kindness and asked her 
to come in. 

‘‘My name is Williams, Josephine Williams, 
commonly known as Jo Bill. Mrs. Bent told me 
of you and asked me to look after you until you 
got on to the ways of the Quarter and the tricks 
of the concierge. I thought I’d begin by asking 
you to afternoon tea to-morrow. I wish I could 
have you to-day but I’ve got a model posing for 
me and I must work every minute of daylight. I 
am going to get in the Kinsellas, our other neigh- 
bors, and Polly Perkins, — that is the man who 


152 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

lives in the court with us. He is not nearly such 
a big fool as he looks and talks.’' 

''Is his name really Tolly?’ ” asked Molly. 

^'Oh, no ! He has a perfectly good man’s name, 
but I am blessed if I remember it. Everybody 
calls him Polly. He is a cubist painter, you 
know; does the weirdest things and now has 
taken up a kind of cubist effect in sculpture; but 
you will see his things for yourself. I’d like to 
give him a good shaking and stand him in the 
corner. The poor fool can draw; made quite a 
name for himself at Carlo Rossi’s and has a sense 
of color that even this crazy cult can’t down. 
Goodness, how I am rattling on ! I must fly back 
to my model who has rested long enough. You 
will come to-morrow, then? Please bring three 
tea cups with you,” and the strange looking fe- 
male strode off. 

“Mother, isn’t she funny? I like her, though, 
and think it will be grand to have tea with her 
and to meet Tolly’.” 

“I like her, too,” said Mrs. Brown. “She has 
such a nice, big, honest mouth. You know I 
never could stand little mouths. But, Molly, how 
on earth does she manage to wipe her paint brush 


BOHEMIA 


153 


on the back of her blouse and keep the front so 
clean? I wonder what kind of an artist she is/^ 

‘‘Maybe she is a futurist or a symbolist. Any- 
how, she is very cordial and kind. I wish Aunt 
Clay could know that we are to have tea with a 
woman in trousers and a long-haired man.’’ 

The shops in the Rue Brea proved to be all that 
could be desired. A delightful little coffee, tea 
and chocolate shop was the first to be visited. It 
was no bigger than their tiled kitchen, but was 
lined with mirrors which gave it quite a spacious 
effect. The madame who presided was lovely 
and looked just like a cocoa advertisement in her 
cap and apron. They made their purchases of 
freshly ground Mocha-and-Java coffee and 
chocolate. The tea they had been warned 
against by the Marquise d’Ochte. “Never get 
tea from a French shop or let a French person 
make it for you. Tea is beyond the ken of the 
French.” 

Then they went to a creamery, painted white 
inside and out as are all the creameries in Paris. 
There were great pyramids of butter ranged 
along the marble counter according to its fresh- 
ness, with rosy girls deftly patting off pounds and 
half pounds, quarter pounds and even two sous’ 


154 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


worth. Molly and her mother followed their 
noses to the freshest pyramid. It seemed to be 
just out of the churn and Molly declared that it 
made her homesick for Aunt Mary and the dairy 
at Chatsworth. They bought some of the deli- 
cious unsalted butter for dinner and left an or- 
der for a fresh pat to be sent in every morning 
for breakfast, also milk and cream and eggs. 

Next came the grocery where they got their 
list of dull necessities in the way of flour, lard, 
salt, pepper, sugar and what not. Then the bak- 
ery, to order the little crescent rolls, croissants, 
to be sent in every morning and also to purchase 
a crusty loaf for dinner. 

“Mother, smell that smell!’’ exclaimed Molly 
as they left the bakery. “What can it be ? It is 
a mixture of all good cooking but I can’t distin- 
guish any particular odor.” 

Next to the bakery was a poultry shop, with 
every kind of winged creature hanging from 
hooks, inside and out: turkeys, ducks, chickens, 
geese, guineas, grouse, pigeons, partridges. In 
the back of the small, dark shop was a great open 
fireplace where logs of wood were blazing 
brightly, and in front of this fire were a series of 
spits, one over the other, stretching across the 


BOHEMIA 


155 


whole fireplace, all arranged to turn by a common 
crank. On these spits were stuck specimens of 
the different birds, and a fat, red- faced youth in 
white cap and blouse turned the spit and basted 
the browning fowls from a long, deep trough 
which caught all of the drippings. And so it 
happened that the turkeys borrowed delicacy 
from the pigeons; and the chickens, flavor from 
the wild duck, etc. And the gravy: Oh that 
gravy! All the perfumes of Araby could not 
equal it. The Browns were carried away by 
their discovery of this wonderful place. They 
immediately purchased a fine fat hen and mon- 
sieur, the proprietor, promised to have it roasted 
and sent hot to them by six-thirty. 

''And please give us a whole lot of gravy, 
beaucoup de jus/' demanded Molly. 

The charming fat boy gave her a beaming 
smile and determined to take an extra quantity to 
the beautiful Americaine if he lost his job as 
spitter. 

The dinner was a great success. Elise did 
come directly from the station as they had hoped 
she would, and she was so happy at being made 
one of the gay little crowd in the Rue Brea and 


156 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 


SO grateful to Mrs. Brown for taking her into her 
fold, that it made all of them glad to have her. 

‘Isn’t it splendid to be able to loosen up and 
undress for dinner? It is especially fine when 
the dinner is so delicious,” exclaimed Elise. “I 
am going to learn how to cook, if Molly will help 
me. Mamma never would let me go near the 
kitchen, and do you know I have never even seen 
any uncooked food except in shop windows and 
don’t know a raw beefsteak from an old boot 
leg?" 

“Papa says a French chef can cook up a boot 
leg with a sauce surprise that you couldn’t for 
the life of you tell from the finest kind of steak. 
Now this roast chicken is the best I have ever 
tasted, with a gravy that has the squawk of the 

wild duck and the coo of a pigeon and ” but 

here Judy stopped to help herself plentifully to 
the wonderful gravy and Molly finished out her 
speech for her : 

“And the gobble of a turkey; and what attri- 
bute of the goose?” 

The table in the studio, with its bowl of chrys- 
anthemums, strips of Japanese toweling in lieu 
of a cloth, and odd blue china was very attrac- 
tive. The china was odd in two senses of the 


BOHEMIA 


157 


word, as not a single saucer matched its cup and 
no two plates were of the same size. But what 
mattered that? Was not the coffee in the cups 
of the hottest and clearest and strongest? Was 
not the chicken and gravy, on the miscellaneous 
plates, food for the gods Was not the rice, a la 
New Orleans, a marvel of culinary skill ? Where 
but in Paris could one find such crusty bread and 
delicious butter? salade Romaine was crisp 
and fresh and Judy had made the salad dressing. 
It was her one accomplishment in the way of pre- 
paring food. She did it in great style and was 
always much hurt if any one else was given her 
job. 

''Judy reminds me of Garrick and ought to 
make the dressing, anyhow,’’ said Molly. "You 
remember what Sydney Smith said of him : 'Our 
Garrick’s a salad, for in him we see, oil, vinegar, 
pepper, and mustard agree.’ ” 

"Do you know the Spanish recipe for salad 
dressing?” asked Elise. " 'A spendthrift for oil ; 
a niggard for vinegar ; a sane man for salt and a 
maniac for beating it.’ ” 

Judy was proving her suitability by beating so 
vigorously and clicking so loudly with the fork, 
that a gentle knock on the door had to be sharply 


158 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


repeated before they were sure of it. There was 
a general scramble from the kimonoed crowd, 
who were not expecting a visitor at this hour. 
But Mrs. Brown, who wore a black China silk 
wrapper and was always presentable, went to the 
door where a small boy in a long white linen 
apron and a baker’s cap stood with a huge flat 
basket on his head. 

gateau pour Madame Brunef' 

"‘But we have not ordered a cake.” 

But the small boy was sure it was a cake for 
Mrs. Brown, and when the great flat basket was 
lifted from his head, there, in verity, was repos- 
ing a beautiful mocha cake with Mrs. Brown’s 
name and address distinctly written on a card, 
but nothing else. 

“An anonymous cake for Mumsy,” laughed 
Molly. “Oh, you chaperone !” 

There was another knock at the door, which 
this time turned out to be a bunch of violets 
apiece for the four ladies from Mr. Kinsella and 
a box of chocolates from Pierce. 

“Why, this is a house warming, girls ! What 
next? I wonder who sent the cake.” 

Mrs. Brown cut generous slices of that spe- 
cialite of Paris, with its luscious, soft coffee- 


BOHEMIA 


159 


flavored covering, hardly an icing, as it is too 
soft and creamy to be called that. 

''Ah, 'fen ai jtisque a la/' said Judy, disposing 
of the last crumb of cake and making a motion 
of cutting her throat with her hand, ‘Vhich in 
plain English means 'stuffed'. I am glad we 
can't eat the violets. Maybe after we move 
around a little we can hold some chocolates, but 
not yet, not yet !" 

Mrs. Brown and Molly began to clear off the 
table, but they were forcibly held by Elise and 
Judy who insisted that the scullions' part was 
theirs. 

"Mamma tried to make me promise to stand 
twenty minutes after meals for form's sake, I 
mean my own form," said Elise. "And what 
could be better than washing dishes for the com- 
plexion ? A good steaming is what Mamma has 
said I need, as she declares I am so sallow, so I 
shall steam over the dishpan. Let's make a rule 
never to leave the dishes, no matter how tired we 
are. Mr. Kinsella says that when he and my 
father were sharing a studio here in Paris, when 
they were boys, they used to leave the dishes until 
they had used up all their supply ; and then they 
would turn them over and eat off the bottoms of 


160 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


the plates. He says those careless ways are what 
disgust one finally with Bohemia.’’ 

''It was certainly kind of Mr. Kinsella to re- 
member me, too, and send me a bunch of violets,” 
said Judy as she wiped the cups Elise was 
washing. 

''Mr. Kinsella is always kind,” said Elise. 
"There never was such a thoughtful man. I feel 
so grateful to him, and I am going to work like a 
Trojan to let him see how I appreciate his inter- 
est in me.” Elise blushed rather more than mere 
gratitude called for, and Judy thought that the 
dish water steaming was improving her complex- 
ion greatly already. She determined to wash 
next time herself and let Elise do the drying! 


CHAPTER XL 


A STUDIO rtA IN TH^ I,ATIN QUART^^R. 

''The only thing that worries me in this de- 
lightful arrangement of co-operative housekeep- 
ing is the accounts/’ sighed Mrs. Brown at break- 
fast the next morning. "I am such a poor hand 
at arithmetic and a franc is so like a quarter that 
it is hard for me to remember it is only twenty 
cents ; and a sou is so huge and heavy, I feel that 
it must be more than a cent. I pin my faith to a 
five franc piece which is like and is a dollar. Pd 
turn the money part over to Molly if she were 
not even worse than I am about it.” 

"Don’t give it to me, please,” begged Molly. 
"You know dear old Nance Oldham used to say I 
could do without money but I could not keep it.” 

"Well, Mrs. Brown, you should not be both- 
ered to death about it, and I think we should elect 
a secretary and treasurer; and since there is no 
one here fitted to fill the place, I propose a new 
member to our club.” Judy got up and reached 

from a high plate rack a funny, glazed Toby jug. 

161 


162 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 


‘H propose the name of Sir Toby Belch as a mem- 
ber of this club/' 

'T second the nomination and wish to offer an 
amendment to the motion," said Elise : ‘'that the 
said Sir Toby be made secretary and treasurer of 
this association. All in favor of this amendment 
say 'Aye,' contrary 'No.' The ayes have it. Now 
are we ready to vote on the motion?" 

The result was that Sir Toby Belch was unani- 
mously elected and Mrs. Brown's duties were 
lightened. The plan was that every week the 
four members of the Co-operative Housekeepers' 
Association should put into Sir Toby a certain 
amount of money which would be drawn out for 
expenses as the occasion arose. If Sir Toby 
should get hungry and empty before the week 
was up, an assessment was to be made on all of 
the members and he was to be fed, even if it did 
happen to be between meals for him. If any 
member should be out of funds at the time, she 
could give an I. O. T. (I Owe Toby) which could 
be cashed when convenient. 

“Dear lady, you shall not be worried," said 
Elise affectionately. “I believe this arrangement 
with Sir Toby will work beautifully." 

And so it did. Sometimes Toby would get 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUARTER 163 

very lean and hungry and the few stray sous left 
in him would clink dismally against his ribs ; and 
again he would be bursting with silver, paper and 
copper. Sometimes he would have to suspend 
payment until he could negotiate his I. O. T.'s., 
and sometimes when the week was up and all out- 
standing bills settled, he would be so affluent that 
he would treat the whole crowd to the theater or 
give a party to the friends in the Latin Quarter. 
Many a jest was made at his expense and some- 
times Mrs. Brown and Judy^ both of them able to 
quote Shakespeare at any point, would give whole 
pages of ‘‘Twelfth Night,’' impersonating the im- 
mortal Sir Toby and Sir Andrew Ague-cheek 
and the naughty Maria. 

Our friends went to many studio teas during 
their stay in Paris, but the first one with their er- 
ratic neighbor. Miss Jo Bill, they never forgot. 
Her studio was the size of their own but had no 
apartment attached. The hostess slept in a bal- 
cony, similar to the one Judy and Molly occupied, 
and her housekeeping and sleeping arrangements 
were much in evidence. Molly, going over ahead 
of the others to take the three tea cups requested, 
found Miss Williams washing her own five cups 
with their varied assortment of saucers and 


164 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

clearing off a table littered with papers and 
magazines, preparatory to placing the alcohol 
lamp, kettle and teapot thereon. 

'‘Do let me help you,’’ begged Molly. "Where 
is your tea towel? I can wipe the cups.” 

"Tea towel !” exclaimed Miss Williams. "Why, 
I don’t possess such a thing! If the water is 
good and hot and clean, you don’t need a towel. 
Just let the dishes drain. It is much more sani- 
tary. Towels are awful germ harborers. But 
if you want to help, you might straighten up this 
table. Don’t ask for a cloth or you will embar- 
rass me.” 

Molly accordingly went to work and got order 
out of chaos in a short while. She piled the pa- 
pers and magazines neatly on a shelf; emptied 
the teapot of its former drawing of leaves; 
washed and rinsed it; filled the kettle with fresh 
water; and replenished the alcohol lamp from a 
bottle of wood alcohol she found on the shelf. 

"Well, if you aren’t a peach. Miss Brown!” 
said the admiring Jo Bill. "I bet you are dying 
to go up on my roost and clear it out some. I 
was going to let it alone hoping to make it so in- 
teresting en has that no one would glance up ; but 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUARTER 165 

if you feel a calling to go up there and stir 
around a little, you are welcome/' 

Molly was itching to get her hands on the bal- 
cony, which reminded her of Mrs. Jellyby's 
closet, full to overflowing with every conceivable 
and inconceivable thing. The floor was strewn 
with coats, dresses and hats while the shoes were 
neatly hung on a row of hooks. Very pretty, 
well-shaped shoes they were, too, as it seemed 
Jo's feet were her one vanity. 

‘T never make up my bed, but just kick the cov- 
ers over the dash board and let it air all day. 
Much more sanitary than tucking the germs in, 
giving them chance to multiply. You can make 
it up if you want to, though, since we are by the 
way of giving a party. Yes, hang up the dresses 
if you think it will improve the looks of things. I 
keep my shoes on the hooks so they can dry well 
and not be losing themselves all the time. I don't 
often need the dresses as I usually wear these 
painting togs. By Jove, speaking of dresses, I 
fancy I ought to put on one this afternoon! I 
wonder if your mother would think I was not 
showing her proper respect if I just put on a 
clean blouse and didn't try to get into one of 
those pesky dresses." 


166 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 


''Oh, don’t dress up for mother, please! She 
would feel bad if she thought her coming would 
make any trouble for you, and besides, you hardly 
have time to do much; it is after five now,” 
laughed Molly. 

So Jo pulled off her workman’s blouse and 
donned a clean one. 

"Please tell me what makes you wipe your 
paint brushes on your back and how you manage 
it,” asked Molly. 

"What a question I” roared the amused Jo. "I 
wipe the brushes on the front of my blouses until 
it gets too gummy, and then I turn it hind part 
before. You and your mother must have thought 
I was some contortionist yesterday,” and she ex- 
tracted a hair brush from one of the shoes hang- 
ing on a hook and gave her tousled hair a vigor- 
ous punishment. 

"Shall I put this tub out of sight?” asked 
Molly, picking up a great English hat tub. 

"No, indeed, leave it there. I always put it 
where Polly Perkins can see it to shame him. 
You see he is as tidy as I am careless, but he 
leads an unhealthy, uncleanly life in spite of all 
of his pernickity ways, and I am really very sani- 
tary and healthy in spite of all of my untidiness. 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUAKTER 167 

In the first place, I take a cold bath every morn- 
ing of my life and sleep in a hurricane of fresh 
air; and if my bed is in a mess, you notice my 
sheets are clean ; while Polly is one of these once- 
a-weekers as to baths, and he is afraid of open- 
ing windows and letting in dust, and he makes up 
his bed the minute he gets out of it, animal heat, 
germs and all/’ 

Molly was vastly amused and interested in her 
neighbor and her evident rivalry with the long- 
haired cubist, whom she now saw daintily picking 
his way across the court, in velveteen jacket and 
Byronic collar with the loose flowing tie common 
in the Latin Quarter. In his hand he held a stiff 
bouquet of red and yellow chrysanthemums, 
which, bowing low, he presented to Jo as she 
jerked the door open at his knock. 

''The flower which you most resemble, I bring 
as an offering of ” 

"Stuff and nonsense! That’s a nice thing to 
tell a girl : that she looks like a ragged chrysan- 
themum I I have brushed my hair, too, so your 
'comparison is odious.’ I have a great mind not 
to introduce you to Miss Brown just to pay you 
back for being so saucy.” 

But Mr. Perkins dM not wait for the formal 


168 MOLLY BKOWN^S ORCHAED HOME 


introduction. He came into the studio, his pasty 
face beaming, and gave Molly’s hand a cordial 
shake. Then the others began to arrive: Mrs. 
Brown, Judy and Elise, Mr. Kinsella and Pierce. 

‘Tolly, put the kettle on and we’ll all have tea,” 
sang Jo, and the obedient Mr. Perkins did her 
bidding. In a short while the water was boiling 
and the tea put to draw, and Jo produced from 
her cupboard a plate of Napoleons (that delicious 
pastry of Paris) and a brioche, 

“Now, Jo Bill, that is mean to go have my kind 
of cake, too,” exclaimed Polly Perkins fretfully. 
“You know I never have Napoleons at my teas 
because you call them yours, but brioche has al- 
ways been mine ; and when I have our neighbors 
in to my studio, what can I give them ? I did not 
know you could be so sneaky. 

Strange to tell, Jo took the repulse quite 
meekly and confessed that it was low, but there 
were not enough Napoleons at the patisserie and 
she had to fill out with something else. 

“Please don’t be cross, Polly. I got brioche 
because I know you like it so much. I like maca- 
roons myself,” and she helped the indignant cu- 
bist to a generous slice of his favorite cake and 
he was mollified. 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUARTER 169 

The party was very gay. Jo proved to be a 
singularly tactful hostess and put them at their 
ease immediately. The tea was perfect. 

‘Where on earth do you get it?'' asked Mrs. 
Brown as she accepted a second cup. 

“Smuggle it," responded Jo. “Every time I 
go to California I bring enough back to run me 
for a year; enough for Polly, too. The custom 
house officials never hunt through my luggage 
for tea. They often remark that I am ‘not the 
tea drinking type', but Polly, here, can't bring in 
a leaf of it without getting found out. He is a 
regular tea drinking type." 

“Are you from California, too?" asked Molly, 
smiling at Polly and wondering if Jo's frankness 
hurt his feelings. But if it did he concealed his 
wounds remarkably well. 

“Yes, indeed, Jo and I are from the same town. 
I have known her ever since she was a little boy. 
She is an awful clever sort and as kind and 
good as can be. I never mind her blague. We 
are the best friends in the world and she likes me 
as much as I do her. Have you seen her paint- 
ing? She does the best and highest paid minia- 
ture work among the American artists in Paris. 
She has a very interesting way of working: 


170 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


paints everything big first and then in miniature. 
She says it keeps her from getting a sissy 
manner.’^ 

can’t fancy Miss Williams with a sissy man- 
ner in anything/’ laughed Elise, who joined 
Molly and Mr. Perkins. want to see her 
things so much ; and I do hope you will show us 
some of your work, Mr. Perkins. I hear you are 
of the new movement in art.” 

‘"Yes,” said poor Polly sadly. hates me 
for it and refuses to think I am sincere or that 
there is any good in the movement, but I declare 
that she is the insincere one in not trying to see 
the good in the cubist movement. Jo is very 
hard-headed and conventional at heart, in spite 
of her pants.” 

The girls burst out laughing at this. The idea 
of Jo’s being conventional was certainly absurd. 
Hard-headed she no doubt was. 

“This will show you how stubborn she is : she 
pretends she does not remember my name. I 
don’t mind her calling me Polly, but I do think 
she should address my letters to Mr. Peter Per- 
kins and not Polly. I have known her ever since 
we were both of us babies and she must remem- 
ber what my parents call me, even though she 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUAETER 171 

never did call me Peter herself/' said the poor 
cubist looked ready to weep. 

Just then there was a diversion caused by a 
great knocking on a door in the court. It proved 
to be none other than Mrs. Pace. 

‘'She has come to spy out the nakedness of the 
land/' whispered Judy to Mr. Kinsella, who had 
been having a long talk with her. Pierce had 
had so much to say of this delightful young lady 
that his uncle was determined to make her ac- 
quaintance and find out if she were the kind of 
girl to be a help to his beloved nephew, or if there 
could be a chance of Judy's being the type that he 
had unfortunately come in contact with in his 
youth, causing so much disaster to his happiness. 
Judy was in her gayest mood and was enjoying 
herself hugely, and Mr. Kinsella seemed to find 
her quite as delightful as Pierce had led him to 
believe her to be. That young man was looking 
rather disconsolate since his uncle was occupying 
the place he coveted. He wandered over to where 
Elise was examining some of Jo's miniatures. 
Elise, too, was a little wistful. She had looked 
forward with so much eagerness to meeting Mr. 
Kinsella again, and now on the first occasion 
when they might have had a real conversation, 


172 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


here he was spending the whole time laughing 
and talking with Julia Kean. She was glad of 
the diversion of Mrs. Pace's entrance, as it neces- 
sarily caused some cessation of what looked to 
her like a flirtation between Mr. Kinsella and 
Judy. 

Enter, Mrs. Pace did, with a scornful sniff. 
After rapping sharply on the Browns' door and 
receiving no answer, she had made her way to 
the studio where the tea was being held. When 
Jo Bill opened the door, without waiting to tell 
her whom she was seeking, she swept into the 
room, ‘'not like a ship in full sail," declared 
Judy to her companion, “but like a great coal 
barge in her shiny black satin and her huge jet 
bonnet." 

Mrs. Brown introduced her to the members of 
the party with whom she was not already ac- 
quainted, but she acknowledged the honor only 
with a slight quiver of the stiff jet trimmings of 
her headgear. 

“Well, Mrs. Brown ! Is this what you left my 
house for?" 

Mrs. Brown made no answer but Molly noticed 
that her nose was what Aunt Mary called 
“a-wucken' " ; and she was wondering what 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUARTER 173 

would be the outcome of Mrs. Pace’s rudeness, 
when Polly Perkins saved the day. He was tak- 
ing tea to the uninvited guests at Jo’s bidding. 
That young woman was totally oblivious and in- 
different to Mrs. Pace’s scornful attitude. She 
was Mrs. Brown’s friend and she, Jo Bill, knew 
how to behave in her own house. Mrs. Pace was 
seated so that the last rays of the setting sun 
slanted through the window on her bonnet and 
the lighted lamp on the other hand shone full on 
her capacious chest, making the large square high 
lights of which Judy had made such merry jests. 
Polly handed her the cup of tea and slice of bri- 
oche and then backed away from her, standing 
with his eyes half closed and his hands clasped in 
adoration. 

'Well, young man, what are you looking at me 
that way for?” snapped the irate Henny. 

"Oh, Madame, you are so beautiful! You 
must pardon my raptures, but I am a cubist and 
you are exactly the type I am looking for to make 
myself famous withal. As I stand and gaze at 
you with my eyes half-closed, you present the 
most wonderful spectacle. I see a series of beau- 
tiful cubes, one on top of the other: black and 
gray, black and gray, and now and then where 


174 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


the light strikes, a brilliant white one. And oh, 
your chapeau! I can hardly wait to get to work 
on your portrait! You will sit to me, won't 
you ?" 

During this effusion, Mrs. Pace sat with a 
pleased smirk on her face. It had been many a 
long day since any one had called her beautiful, 
and no one had ever called her beautiful with 
such enthusiasm or wanted to paint her portrait. 
To be sure it was nothing but a small, pasty- 
faced, long-haired artist, but he was a man for 
all that, and his eyes were kind and earnest and 
his voice most appealing. 

'T am a very busy woman," she answered 
gently, ‘‘but I will pose for you with pleasure, if 
it will help you in any way." 

Her shiny ornaments trembled with emotion 
and she gave a sentimental sigh that broke the 
beautiful square high-light, so admired by Polly, 
into a dozen little ripples. 

Mrs. Brown arose to make her adieux, taking 
Mrs. Pace with her to show the new quarters to 
the much softened lady. Mrs. Brown knew by 
the look in Judy's eyes that she would explode 
with laughter in a moment. Molly and Elise 
were bending over Jo's miniatures, their shoul- 


A STUDIO TEA IN THE LATIN QUAKTER 175 

ders shaking. Pierce was standing in the middle 
of the floor with an alert expression as though 
he were in readiness to seize the lunatic, poor 
Polly, if he should become dangerous. Mr. 
Kinsella’s composure was ominous of an out- 
break. Jo Bill stood with arms akimbo and 
gazed at her former playmate, anger gradually 
gaining the ascendency over the amusement 
caused by his outspoken admiration of the pon- 
derous and impolite Mrs. Pace. 

As the door closed on the two ladies, Jo sud- 
denly reached out, and grabbing Polly by his 
flowing tie, she boxed his ears soundly. ‘‘There, 
you goose, IVe been wanting to do that for 
years 

Polly received the chastisement with the ut- 
most delight and actually seemed to look upon it 
as a form of caress from the enraged Jo. He 
whispered to Molly: “I believe Jo is jealous of 
the beautiful Mrs. Pace.” 

Mr. Kinsella asked EHse to take a walk with 
him that evening before dinner and they had the 
long talk that the girl had been eager for ; and the^ 
little cloud of — not exactly jealousy, more envy 
of Judy’s powers of attraction than jealousy, was 
dispelled for the time being. 


CHAPTER XII. 


GREEN-EY£:d monster. 

The winter went merrily on. Elise and Judy 
worked diligently at Julien's, the hard academic 
drawing being good for them and helping to 
counteract a tendency both had to rather slip- 
shod methods. They gave only the morning to 
the school and in the afternoon looked at pictures 
or painted at home, if they could get a model 
among their acquaintances. 

Judy made some charming memory sketches of 
the Paris streets. Seeing some bit that took her 
fancy, going or coming, she would burn to get 
her impression on canvas. She could hardly wait 
to get her hat and coat off, but would come tear- 
ing into the studio, pulling off her wraps as she 
came, hair flying, cheeks glowing, looking very 
like Brer Rabbit, Molly declared, when he ran 
down the hill with the six tin plates fer the chil- 
lun to sop outen ; and the six tin cups fer the chil- 
lun to drink outen ; the coffee pot fer the f ambly ; 

and the hankcher fer hisself, hollerin’: ‘‘Gimme 
176 


THE GEEEN-EYED MONSTER 177 

room, gimme room’\ They gave her room, all 
right, especially if her medium happened to be 
water color, as Judy was a grand splasher and 
spared neither water nor paint. 

EHse was delighting in her steady work, the 
first she had ever been allowed to do. She lacked 
Judy’s sense of color but on the other hand was 
very clever at sketching and getting a likeness, 
and had inherited her father’s inimitable powers 
of caricature. 

‘‘Oh,” sighed Judy, “if I could only get the 
people in my memory sketches to stand on their 
legs and seem to move as yours do, Elise, how 
happy I should be !” 

“And I,” said Elise, “would give anything if 
I could see and put on canvas the lovely colors 
that you can. I can’t see anything but drab, 
somehow. It must be a somberness of disposi- 
tion that affects my eyesight.” 

“But, Elise,” broke in Molly, “you are not 
somber at all. You are full of jokes and hon 
mots” 

“Oh, that is just my way here with all of you 
lovely, good, happy people. I am usually very 
dull and sober. Mamma says I can be the stu- 


178 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAKD HOME 


pidest company in all the world, and I am sure 
she is right/’ 

Elise had indeed blossomed in the congenial 
atmosphere in which she found herself for the 
first time in her life. Mr. Kinsella watched her 
eagerly, seeing many things about her to remind 
him of his old friend George O’Brien; and when 
the girl occasionally let drop some of the worldly 
cynicism that she had perforce learned from her 
mother, the sad look in his eyes would make her 
quickly repent her bitterness, and her endeavors 
to bring back his rarely sweet smile were almost 
pathetic in their eagerness. Mrs. Brown under- 
stood the girl thoroughly and did everything in 
her power to make her feel that she was one of 
the little coterie and a valued member ; but Elise 
found it difficult to look upon herself as anything 
but an outsider. She was sensitively afraid of 
being in the way where Molly’s and Judy’s inti- 
macy was concerned, and the girls often had to 
force her to join them on a lark unless Mrs. 
Brown was one of the party. 

Pierce was ‘'making good,” as he expressed it, 
at the school. He had gone through several 
years of hard drawing at the League in New 
York, so decided that he could give his time to 


THE GKEEH-EYED MONSTER 


179 


the painting that was to be his life’s work. His 
uncle was delighted with his progress, and felt 
that his own youth was not lost at all but rein- 
carnated in the glowing genius of his beloved 
nephew. 

Molly was studying at the Sorbonne, where 
her Cousin Philippe d’Ochte had duly installed 
her. It did not seem like studying, but more like 
going to the theater for several hours a day. The 
lecturers were so charming, so vivacious; their 
delivery was so dramatic, their gestures so ani- 
mated. She drank in every word and found her- 
self understanding French as she had never 
dreamed that she could. 

She wrote on her stories when she was not 
attending the lectures. The Latin Quarter had 
given her several good plots and she was eager 
to work them out before Professor Green should 
put in his appearance, as she was anxious to let 
him see she had accomplished something during 
her Paris winter. That poor young man was 
still teaching the young idea how to shoot at 
Wellington and saw no hope of his release before 
March. 

Kent Brown wrote cheerful letters from Ken- 
tucky. He was very busy in his chosen field of 


180 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 

architecture and was learning French in a night 
class to fit himself for the Beaux Arts when he 
would finally be able to get to Paris. Aunt Clay 
was fighting the Trust vindictively as only she 
could fight and was dying hard, but Kent pre- 
dicted that the end was near ; and as soon as the 
suit was settled, he intended to take the first 
steamer abroad. 

Mrs. Brown was not concerning herself in the 
least about her financial affairs. She felt sure 
that sooner or later she would realize on the sale 
of oil lands, and in the meantime the economy she 
and Molly were compelled to practice was rather 
exciting and interesting than annoying. Mrs. 
Brown had the happy faculty of adaptability, and 
living on Rue Brea she found there were many 
American students who were compelled to exer- 
cise the greatest thrift to exist. 

Poor Polly Perkins was a sad example of the 
unproductive consumer. He had never earned a 
cent in his life and it looked as though he never 
would earn one, but still he stayed on in Paris, 
hoping against hope that his luck would change 
and that he could either sell a picture or that his 
cubist theories would become so popular that pu- 
pils would flock to him to sit at the feet of learn- 


THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER 181 

ing. He had a small monthly remittance from 
home that enabled him to pay his rent and by the 
strictest economy to clothe himself in the artistic 
garb of the Quarter (velveteen is fortunately 
very durable and not very costly) ; also to feed 
and partly nourish his far from robust little 
body. Mrs. Brown and Molly felt very sorry 
for Polly. 

‘'He is such a sad little fellow/’ said Molly, 
“and he is very kind and good and takes Jo’s teas- 
ing and bossing so patiently. He is really sin- 
cere about his art, and just because we can’t see 
his way, we ought not to laugh at him. I believe 
Jo likes him a lot more than she knows she does. 
It nearly kills her for him to make himself ridicu- 
lous. I am crazy to see his portrait of Mrs. 
Pace. I do hope I can keep my face straight 
when he unveils it for us.” 

“Mrs. Pace declares it is wonderful. She told 
your Cousin Sally and me that it was a speaking 
likeness.” 

“Well, any likeness of Mrs. Pace would have 
to be a speaking likeness,” laughed Molly. 

Mrs. Brown and Molly were having one of 
their confidential talks, rather rare at that time, 
as Judy and Elise were usually at home when 


182 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


Molly was; or if mother and daughter did have a 
few moments alone, they were interrupted by 
callers: the Kinsellas or the d’Ochtes, Jo Wil- 
liams or Polly Perkins or some of the new ac- 
quaintances they had made among the students. 

''Mother, don’t you notice a kind of sadness 
about Elise lately? She does not seem to me to 
be quite herself. Sometimes that old bitter way 
of talking gets hold of her and although she 
knows it pains Mr. Kinsella, she takes especial 
delight in giving vent to this satire when he is 
present. I am glad he has gone off to the 
Riviera for a change. She is devoted and grate- 
ful to him for influencing her mother to let her 
have the winter in Paris, but she has taken a 
strange way to show her gratitude in the last 
week or so. 

"Did you see an almost noisy flirtation she was 
having with Philippe the last time we had all of 
them in to tea? She was not a bit like her sin- 
cere self, the natural, well-bred Elise that we all 
love so much, but more like her mother with her 
smart-set manner and flippant witticisms. I 
thought Cousin Sally was a little concerned about 
her precious Philippe. Cousin Sally is much 
more Frenchified in her soul than she dreams. I 


THE GKEEN-EYED MONSTER 


183 


believe she is going to control the destiny of her 
son just as much as any mother in France/' 

Mrs. Brown smiled. She had an idea that she 
knew what Sally Bolling's plans for her son 
were : namely, her own Molly Brown. But since 
Molly herself had no idea of it, she was the last 
woman in the world to suggest it to her. She 
felt sure of her Molly, sure that no rank or 
wealth would influence her in choosing a mate (if 
choose one she must). She was confident that 
Molly liked Professor Green better than any man 
she knew, and that Philippe d'Ochte with all his 
charm and good looks, wealth and position, did 
not appeal to her little daughter as did Edwin 
Green, the quiet, scholarly professor with no 
wealth at all. She had mentioned the professor 
only casually to her cousin, Sally d'Ochte, as she 
did not feel it was incumbent upon her to speak 
of him as Molly's lover, since Molly herself did 
not consider him as one. 

As for Philippe's heart, she did not think there 
was any danger of its being broken. She had 
carefully observed her young cousin and could 
see no sign of the languishing lover. That young 
man seemed to find difficulty in deciding which 
young lady he considered the most attractive. 


184 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


Molly was all that was lovely and sweet and de- 
lightful; Judy had a singular charm for him, 
with her vivacious manner and originality ; Elise 
O'Brien evidently amused him and interested him 
greatly; and now a new star had come on his 
horizon: Frances Andrews, whom he had met at 
the Browns' and found very fascinating, a mix- 
ture of American and French. Philippe had, in 
truth, met too many charmers in too short a space 
of time and they had proved an embarrassment 
of riches, as it were. 

His Cousin Mildred Brown knew what safety 
in numbers there was for him, and hoped he 
would not come to the conclusion that her Molly 
was the one of all others for him. Not that she 
did not like him. She was very fond of him and 
fully appreciated all of the d'Ochte kindness to 
her and her little crowd of girls; but she had in a 
measure given her word to Edwin Green : that if 
he would not speak to Molly of his love for her 
for a year, he would find her daughter still unat- 
tached. She felt that she had done right in ask- 
ing this of Professor Green. She was confident 
that she knew Molly's inmost thoughts and feel- 
ings, and that if she had any preference at all, it 
was for the young professor. 


THE GEEEIST-EYED MONSTEE 185 

There were times when this anxious mother 
realized that one could not be too cocksure about 
the heart of anyone, even of one’s own flesh and 
blood. Molly had noticed that Elise was not her- 
self, and Mrs. Brown had noticed that none of 
her girls were quite themselves. For the last few 
days there had been a condition in the apartment 
in the Rue Brea of nerves at high tension; tem- 
pers a little uncertain; feelings a little tender. 
Mrs. Brown held her peace and endeavored tact- 
fully to steer their little menage safely over the 
shoals. 

She thought she understood Elise. The poor 
girl was suffering with jealousy of Judy, who 
had plunged into an intimacy with the Kinsellas, 
uncle and nephew alike. She and Pierce would 
go on long tramps into the country and play a 
kind of game of memory sketches, seeing which 
one could bring home the greater number of im- 
pressions. Mr. Kinsella had become interested 
in their game and had joined them on one of 
their walks, becoming so fired with enthusiasm 
that he had actually tried to do some painting 
himself. He had been quite successful, consid- 
ering the number of years that had passed since 
he had even so much as squeezed paint out of a 


186 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


tube. They had asked Elise to join them, but 
she had coldly refused. After those walks had 
become so popular with the trio, then it was that 
Elise had begun a rather half-hearted flirtation 
with Philippe d’Ochte. 

Judy was in one of her gayest and most irri- 
tating moods. ''Getting ready for what she calls 
'a Judy Kean scrape,’ I am afraid,” thought Mrs. 
Brown. "Our winter has been so peaceful and 
harmonious; but this mist will clear away soon, 
I know.” 

Judy seemed to realize that she was hurting 
Elise in some way but to be perfectly careless of 
the result. She never lost an opportunity to give 
Molly a dig about Frances Andrews, and when 
that young woman had come to the studio to tea, 
Judy had been very cold and almost rude to her. 
Molly, on her side, was a little distrait and list- 
less and very touchy. 

"What is the matter with my girls?” thought 
poor Mrs. Brown. "For the last week they have 
been like naughty children.” 

When Molly and her mother were having the 
little confidential talk recorded above, the elder 
lady did not realize that two American mails had 
come and that neither Judy nor Molly had re- 


THE GKEEN-EYED MONSTER 


187 


ceived the bulky epistles that they usually did, — 
Judy one from Kentucky, and Molly one from 
Wellington. This was the cause of their un- 
reasonable tempers. And had she but known it, 
on the other side of the Atlantic her own son 
Kent was eaten up with the green-eyed monster 
all because Judy had mentioned the name of Kin- 
sella six times in her last letter ! And he, Kent, 
had only that morning called his brother Paul '‘a 
conceited ass’’ because Paul had on a cravat to 
match his socks ; and he had been equally unrea- 
sonable with a misguided waiter who brought 
him macaroni when he ordered spaghetti. 

As for the dignified Professor Green, he had 
actually ‘‘hollered” at a poor freshman who had 
in reading some poetry pronounced “unshed 
tears” as though unshed were in one syllable. 
“ ‘Unched tears’, I could almost shed them,” said 
the much-tried teacher ; and all because a certain 
Molly Brown had a cousin Philippe who was kind 
enough to see that she heard all the lectures 
worth while at the Sorbonne. 

Mrs. Brown decided to take Molly into her 
confidence and divulge to her her ideas concern- 
ing Elise and Mr. Kinsella. Molly was aston- 
ished and delighted. 


188 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


''Oh, mother, how wise you are and how blind 
I am! I realize now how Elise must have suf- 
fered and all for nothing. I just know Mr. Kin- 
sella adores her. I see it all. He went off just 
because he thought Elise was serious about Phil- 
ippe and he could not stay to see it. How I wish 
he would come back and it could all be set right, 
and dear Elise could make up to him for all the 
suffering her mother caused him! I do wish I 
could put a flea in Judy’s ear and she would 
behave.” 

"But you must not do that, my dear,” said 
Mrs. Brown. "That would not be quite fair to 
Elise. You see it is only surmise on our part.” 

"Right as usual, mother, but it is going to be 
hard to see things going wrong when a word 
would right them. Judy means no harm and is 
really doing nothing. She takes long walks with 
Mr. Kinsella and Pierce, and Mr. Kinsella de- 
lights in Judy’s frankness and originality. He 
likes to be with her, but as for thinking of her in 
any other light than as Pierce’s playmate, — I 
don’t believe it has entered his head.” 

"I am sure it hasn’t; but Elise has had very 
few friends and has been brought up in such a 
selfish world, that she is perhaps prone to see the 


THE GKEEN-EYED MONSTER 189 

wrong motive. Molly, do you feel well ? I have 
fancied you were a little pale lately and not quite 
so enthusiastic as usual.” 

Just then there was a knock on the door and 
the concierge’s little son entered, bringing a 
stack of mail. One from Wellington was on top, 
and Molly was able truthfully to tell her mother 
that she never felt better in her life. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


A JUIvIA KtAN SCRAPS. 

One day in late February when there was a 
faint hint of spring in the air, on the way to the 
art school Judy said to Elise: 

'T am dead tired of drawing from a model in- 
doors. IVe a great mind to cut the whole thing 
and do something desperate. I know the sap is 
rising in the trees and the color is getting won- 
derful and more wonderful every day. I believe 
ril go on a high old lonesome to the country, take 
my sketch box, pick up some luncheon where I 
happen to land and have a general holiday. Why 
don't you come, too ?" 

“Thank you, no. If I should go, too, it would 
not be a high old lonesome for you ; and then, be- 
sides, I am so interested in the model this week," 
said Elise. 

She did not say that she half expected Mr. 
Kinsella back that afternoon and could not bear 
to be out of Paris when he returned. Mr. Kin- 
sella had been off on a three weeks' jaunt, and 
190 


A JULIA KEAN SCEAPE 


191 


during his absence Elise had taken herself se- 
verely to task for her behavior to him and to 
everyone. She had reasoned herself into seeing 
how absurd her jealousy was toward Judy, and 
when Mr. Kinsella should return, he was to find 
a much chastened Elise. 

‘'But, Judy,’’ continued Elise, “if you do go, 
you will skip a criticism from the master; and 
then, isn’t it a little imprudent for you to go out 
to the country all alone?” 

“Oh, I am glad to skip a criticism from old 

C , he is such an old fogy. All he can say is : 

'Qa va mieux, mademoiselle, ga va mieux!' As 
for being imprudent going to the country alone, 
why, I am surely big enough, old enough and 
ugly enough to take care of myself,” and Judy 
made a face and assumed a militant air. 

“Well, you are ridiculous enough to carry 
through any project,” laughed Elise. “And 
where will you go, you big, ugly, old thing?” 

“Oh, not far. St. Cloud, perhaps. I fancy 
I’ll be back before you get home. I am not so 
crazy about being by myself when I once get 
there. I am a gregarious animal when all is 
told. Good-by, my love to old C and 


192 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


Judy swung off, determined to take one of the 
little boats to St. Cloud. 

It was a glorious day. The water of the Seine 
was clear and blue; the little boats were puffing 
up and down; the fishermen lined the walls and 
patiently and diligently cast their hooks. Judy 
stood on the Pont Neuf glad she was living; glad 
she was in Paris and had eyes to see it and ears 
to hear it; glad of her truancy; gladdest of all 
when one old fisherman actually caught a fish and 
she was there to behold it. She had been told 
that none were ever caught, that the fishermen 
sat there day after day, year after year, with 
never a reward for their patience. She wan- 
dered up the quay, not certain whether she would 
take a boat to St. Cloud or go to the station and 
catch a train for Versailles. As she loafed along, 
an ogling old man joined her and with voluble 
protestations assured her of his admiration of 
her beauty. Judy gave him a withering glance 
and, quickening her pace, soon left him far 
behind. 

‘'That is exactly what Papa warned me 
against,’’ she thought. “He said: ‘Never loaf 
along the streets when you are alone. Have 
some business to attend to and attend to it and 


A JULIA KEAN SCKAPE 


193 


no one will have anything to say to you.’ I must 
assume some business if I have it not.” 

She accordingly put on an air of great pur- 
pose, grasped her sketching kit very firmly, and 
went and got on a little ''penny puff puff” that 
was just starting out for Sevres and St. Cloud. 

St. Cloud was beaut ful, indeed. The sap was 
rising in the trees and a few buds were showing 
their noses on bush and shrub. There was a 
haze over everything like a tulle veil, and Judy 
had an idea if that would lift, she could catch a 
glimpse of spring. She remembered that these 
groves were the ones that Corot loved to paint 
and indeed the effect was very much that ob- 
tained by that great artist: a soft, lovely, misty 
atmosphere, with vistas through the trees, and an 
occasional glimpse of shining water. Judy made 
several tiny "postage stamp” sketches. "Taking 
notes from nature,” she called it. 

"I wish some nymphs would come dancing out 
now,” she exclaimed. "Corot could call them up 
at any time, and why not I? 'I can call spirits 
from the vasty deep. And so can I, and so can 
any man; but will they come when you do call 
them thus ?’ ” No nymphs came, but a wedding 
party appeared, the buxom bride dressed in white 


194 MOLLY BKOWN’S OECHAED HOME 


with a long veil and wreath of artificial orange 
blossoms, the groom in dress coat, gray trousers, 
and red cravat. 

St. Cloud is a famous place for wedding par- 
ties of the petit bourgeois, and Judy felt herself 
to be very fortunate to witness this first one of 
the spring. The bride's dress looked rather chilly 
for February although it was such a warm, sunny 
day ; but through the coarse lace yoke it was easy 
to see that the prudent young woman had on a 
sensible red flannel undershirt, and as she turned 
around and around in the mazes of the dance, 
with the ecstatic groom, an equally sensible gray 
woolen petticoat was in plain view. A hurdy- 
gurdy furnished the music and the greensward 
was their ballroom floor. Everyone danced, old 
and young, fat and lean. 

Judy sat entranced and beat time with her 
eager feet. It was such a good-natured crowd. 
The groom's mother danced with the bride's 
father, and the bride's mother danced with the 
groom's father. Everyone had a partner and 
everyone seemed to feel it to be his or her duty 
as well as pleasure to dance as long as the hurdy- 
gurdy man could grind out a tune. The fat 
mother of the bride (at least Judy thought she 


A JULIA KEAN SCKAPE 


195 


must be her mother from a similarity of gray 
woolen petticoats) sank on the bench almost into 
the wet sketch with the Corot effect, and made 
speechless signals that she could proceed no far- 
ther. Her disconsolate partner was not nearly 
through with his breath or enthusiasm. He was 
as lean as his partner was fat and had not so 
much to carry as the poor mother of the bride. 
He took two or three steps alone, kicking out his 
long legs like a jumping- jack, and then he made 
a sudden resolve. Coming over to Judy, he took 
off his hat, pressed it to his starched shirt bosom, 
made a low bow and asked her to take pity on a 
poor old man who would have to dance alone, as 
dance he must, unless she would be his partner. 

Impulsive Julia Kean found herself on a ter- 
race at St. Cloud, spinning around like a dancing 
dervish. She, with her partner, danced down 
the whole wedding party ; even the untiring street 
piano gave up, and their last spin was taken with- 
out music. The good-natured revelers applauded 
loudly; and some of them congratulated her on 
her powers of endurance; and the flattered hon 
phe declared that in his youth he had been able 
to dance down three charming partners but he 
had never had the pleasure of dancing with a 


196 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


young lady with the endurance of the English 
miss. With that, he heard a scornful ‘'Bah'' 
from his good wife, who berated him for his stu- 
pidity in not knowing V Americaine from VAng- 
laise. 

“An English lady would be scornful of our 
kind, but an American would not be so particular, 
blockhead?" And the large grenadier of a wo- 
man, looking like one of the commune, gave his 
ear a playful tweak. 

“My wife is jealous, mademoiselle. She was 
ever thus," said the lean dancer ; and all the com- 
pany roared with delight at his wit. Then the 
hurdy-gurdy started up a brisk polka. Judy was 
claimed by the grinning groom, and once more 
her endurance was put to the test. For the honor 
of her country, she was glad of her athletic train- 
ing and record at Wellington. The bride was 
dancing with her new father-in-law, Judy's for- 
mer partner, and it was recognized at the begin- 
ning that this was to be fight to the finish between 
the two couples. 

“Breathe through your nose and save your 
wind," she whispered to her partner, who was 
puffing like a porpoise and showed signs of giving 
in. The others had one by one succumbed to fa- 


A JULIA KEAN SCKAPE 


197 


tigue and were now sitting in a more or less ex- 
hausted state on the various benches, noisily ap- 
plauding the endurance of the spinning couples 
and betting on their favorites. 

The groom was not the man his father was, 
but he had youth in his favor ; and Judy had the 
advantage of the bride in lightness and training. 
The old father was beginning to look grim and 
haggard, and the bride very hot, with her red 
flannel shirt showing in splotches through her 
moist wedding finery. Judy's soul was filled with 
compassion. This was the bride's day and no 
honor should be wrested from her. If the hus- 
band scored one on her to-day she might never 
catch even, and he might hold the whip hand 
over her for the rest of their married life. As 
for the old man, it was hard enough to be old 
and have young ones usurp your place. 

Judy made a sudden resolve to let her oppo- 
nents win. She was the stronger member of 
their team and knew if it had not been for her 
endurance, the young man would have given in 
long ago ; so assuming a shortness of breath that 
she did not really feel, she slid from her part- 
ner's flabby embrace and sank on a bench by the 
side of the bride's mother, just a second before 


198 MOLLY BKOWN^S OECHAED HOME 


the old man and his daughter-in-law flopped in an 
ignominious heap on the grass. 

Being tired and victorious is a very different 
thing from being tired and beaten, so the fallen 
pair were soon restored. The groom picked up 
his lady-love and bestowed a burning kiss on her 
panting mouth, (just to let her know there was 
no hard feeling,) and Judy, remembering she had 
in her shirtwaist in lieu of a missing button, a 
tiny enamelled American flag, went forward and 
pinned it on the lapel of the old man’s coat, and 
making a low curtsey, said: 

‘‘A tribute from America to France!” 

There was much applause. Judy was urged 
by all present to stay with them all day, but she 
had decided to take a train at the nearby station 
for Versailles and get her luncheon there, so she 
bade them good-by. Gathering up her sketches 
and sliding them into the grooves in the back of 
her kit, she left the gay throng and soon got a 
local to Versailles. 

On reaching Versailles, she did not go into the 
palace but wandered in the park, stopping to feed 
the carp in the pond with some gingerbread she 
had bought from a red-cheeked old woman. 
These carp are large and fat and lazy, lying at 


A JULIA KEAN SCKAPE 


199 


the bottom of the pool, moving their tails almost 
imperceptibly and opening and shutting their 
eyes with such a bored expression that Judy had 
to laugh. There is a rumor that they are the 
same carp that Marie Antoinette used to feed; 
certainly they are very old and very tired. Judy 
remembering this legend of the carp, began to 
think of poor Marie Antoinette and decided to go 
over to the Trianon. The poor misunderstood 
queen had always been one of Judy’s favorites. 
She walked along under the trees in a brown 
study musing on the fortunes of that royal lady. 

Suddenly she rubbed her eyes. Was she 
dreaming or was she crazy? The Trianon was 
before her and on the terrace was Marie Antoi- 
nette herself dressed as a shepherdess and lead- 
ing a beautiful woolly lamb by a blue ribbon. 
Accompanying her was a pretty maid of honor 
dressed as a milk maid with a pail in her hand 
and a three-legged stool under her arm. The 
Count d’Artois, gay, handsome, debonair, met 
them and held them in conversation, then the 
grave, sedate Monsieur, as the elder of the two 
brothers of King Louis XVI was styled, ap- 
proached, and with him was our own Benjamin 
Franklin, dressed in sober brown. 


200 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

‘Where am I? What can it mean? I am 
wide awake, and that is as certainly Benjamin 
Franklin as that I ate Quaker Oats every morn- 
ing for breakfast at Wellington. But who is 
this madman ?” 

A furious person in shirt sleeves came tearing 
across the terrace. In plain American he berated 
Marie Antoinette, the grave Monsieur, d^Artois 
and even the dignified Franklin, and, strange to 
say, they took it very amiably. True, the spoiled 
Marie pouted a bit, but Franklin, with a vile 
Cockney accent, said : 

‘T saiy, wot’s your ’urry? The negative hain’t 
spoiled none. Hold Tress the Button’ hain’t in 
his box.” 

“Moving picture actors,” exclaimed Judy. 
“What a sell!” 

She sat and watched them for some time, 
amused by the vociferous manager, who did not 
hesitate to swear at the royal Louis XVI, who 
came into view, forgetting to show the bunch of 
keys he was supposed to have fashioned with his 
own kingly hands. 

The day had been full of adventure and in con- 
sequence a great success in Judy’s eyes. She 
was tired of the humdrum of the last few weeks 


A JULIA KEAN SCRAPE 201 

and her soul thirsted for excitement. do wish 
Molly had come. How she would have enjoyed 
the thrill of seeing Marie Antoinette in her own 
setting of the Trianon; but if I had been with 
anyone, I am sure the dear old dancing father 
would never have asked me to dance and I 
should have missed that delightful experience of 
being one of a wedding party at St. Cloud. 

‘‘Molly is a little hurt with me, anyhow, be- 
cause I have been rather nasty about Frances 
Andrews. Frances is improved but I have not 
had the courage to tell Molly I am sorry, and 
knowing I am wrong makes me ruder than ever 
to Frances. As soon as I get back to town I am 
going to Tess up. Frances is off on a trip with 
her grandmother, but when she comes back she 
will find me as polite as a basket of chips. Sup- 
pose Molly had turned her back on me when I 
got into all of those mix-ups with Adele Wind- 
sor ! I don’t know whether I would have had the 
backbone to go through with the senior year or 
not if it had not been for Molly. Frances is cer- 
tainly much more of a lady than Adele Windsor 
and she has never done a thing to hurt me. I am 
going to try to be good. I know dear Mrs. 
Brown will be glad. 


202 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


'H fancy that dear lady has had some worried 
moments lately. Elise has got over her dumps 
and is behaving like a rational human being, and 
I am the only one who has not reformed. I am 
going to get my lunch and go right back to Paris 
and tell them what a brute I am and how good 
I am going to be. Kent would hate me for 
worrying his mother, and he despises meanness 
in anyone.’’ 

Judy accordingly went to a little cafe near the 
station and ordered a good luncheon, which took 
almost all of the change she had in her pocket; 
but her ticket back to Paris, which was only a 
few sous, was all that she needed so she did not 
let her finances worry her. She still had a bag 
with a big slab of gingerbread in it. This she 
determined to leave at the cafe as it was a cum- 
bersome parcel, but the gargon ran after her with 
it and she thought it a simpler matter just to take 
it along, not knowing that the time would come 
when she would look upon that gingerbread as 
her preserver. Inquiring at the station, she 
found there would not be a train back to Paris 
for about half an hour and so, after buying her 
ticket, she determined to take a walk in the Ver- 


A JULIA KEAN SCEAPE 203 

sailles grounds rather than spend the time 
waiting. 

She chose a rather unfrequented path leading 
to the lake and walked slowly for Judy, who was 
ever quick in her movements; but the day was 
beginning to drag a little. She was, as she had 
told Elise, a gregarious animal, and a whole day 
of her own company was beginning to pall on her. 
She sat down on a bench. Along the path came 
a typical Boulevardier, a very much over- 
dressed dandy, with shiny boots and hat, lemon 
colored gloves, waxed black mustache and beard, 
and all the manner of a ''would-be-masher.’’ 
How Judy hated his expression as he ogled her ! 
But she thought utter disregard of him would 
discourage him, so she assumed a very superior 
air and looked the other way. The Frenchman 
was so certain of his powers of fascination that 
he could not believe her manner to be anything 
but coy, so he sank on the bench by her side and 
began in the most insinuating way to praise her 
beauty and style, her hair, eyes and mouth. The 
girl was furious, but determined to say nothing, 
hoping by her scornful silence to drive off her 
admirer. He persisted, however, in his unwel- 
come attentions. 


204 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 


^'Peut-etre madamoiselle does not schpick 
Frangais. I can parler a leetle Eenglesh, mais 
pas beaucoupF Jndy rose from her seat, over- 
come with indignation and a slight feeling of 
fear. 

know he can’t hurt me,” thought the girl, 
''but he can make things very disagreeable and 
embarrassing for me.” 

The place seemed singularly lonesome and 
desolate. The bright sun had gone behind a 
cloud and a sharp breeze had sprung up. There 
was not a soul in sight and the station was at 
least a five minutes’ walk distant. As she hur- 
ried off, the man picked up the bag, from the top 
of which gingerbread was protruding, and fol- 
lowed her. 

"You have forgot your gouter, cherie. Do you 
like puddeen very much, my dear?” 

Judy seized the bag of gingerbread that she 
seemed unable to lose, and a sudden remem- 
brance of her talk with Elise came to her : "I am 
big enough, old enough and ugly enough to take 
care of myself.” She thought if it was beauty 
that he was admiring she would cure him fast 
enough. She grabbed the slab of soggy brown 
cake from the bag and crammed about six inches 


A JULIA KEAN SCRAPE 


205 


of it into her mouth, the rest of it sticking out 
in a manner far from dainty. It had the desired 
effect. The fastidious Frenchman was com- 
pletely disgusted. He immediately stopped his 
pursuit, exclaiming with a shrug: ''Ah quelle 
hetiser 

When Judy arrived at the little station a train 
was on the track, and without waiting to ask any 
question of the guard, since she had her ticket, 
she jumped into a second class coach from which 
someone had just alighted, slammed the door 
shut, sank back on the cushions and burst out 
crying. Crying was something in which Judy 
was not an adept and only a few tears came, but 
she felt better because of them. Then she settled 
herself for a pleasant, if short, trip to Paris. 
There was no one in the coach with her, for 
which she was very thankful. 

'Td hate for anyone, even a Frenchy, to see 
me blubber. Oh, how I should have liked to hit 
that man a good uppercut on the jaw! I shall 
crow over Molly. I did as much with a piece of 
gingerbread as she did with a tennis racket when 
she floored the burglar who was after Mildred 
Brown’s wedding presents. This looks like a 
long trip to Paris. We should be getting there 


206 • MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

by this time. We are going mighty fast for a 
local. Oh, these beastly foreign trains where 
they hermetically seal you and you can't ask a 
question until you get to a station." 

The train slowed up but did not stop. They 
passed a village and then another and another. 
The country was not familiar to Judy. She read 
'‘Rambouillet" on a passing station, and then the 
fact became clear to her that she was on the 
wrong train, going from Paris instead of 
towards it. 

''Rambouillet is at least twenty miles from 
Paris. Judy Kean, you idiot, you idiot, you 
idiot !" 

Judy was in truth on the Chartres express with 
six sous in her pocket, left after she bought her 
ticket to Paris ; and the one piece of jewelry she 
might have converted into enough cash at least 
to telegraph her friends, was pinned on the coat 
of that crazy old dancing fiend. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


COAI,S OF FIRF. 

A furious, vociferous guard bundled Judy out 
of the coach, when on arriving at Chartres the 
door was unlocked. She showed her ticket to 
Paris and endeavored to explain her mistake and 
situation, but he was almost inarticulate with 
rage at her for having ‘^stolen a ride^’ as he ex- 
pressed it; and now she could look out for her- 
self. It was none of his affair. She went into 
the waiting room to find out when the next train 
to Paris was due. She debated whether or not 
she should tell the ticket agent of her trouble and 
see if he could pass her back to Paris, but his 
appearance was so forbidding and his eyes so 
fishy that she could hardly make up her mind 
even to ask the time for the train. She made out 
from a bulletin that it was not due until ten at 
night. That would land her in Paris at mid- 
night. In the meantime, she must raise enough 
money to pay for her ticket and hire a taxi when 
207 


208 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


she got to Paris. She must also manage to send 
a telegram to Molly. 

''Julia Kean, you have always thought your- 
self pretty clever and this is the first time in all 
your life you have had really and truly to depend 
on yourself. Now let's see what you can do. 
First thing, I warn you not to sniffle and get 
sorry for yourself. If you do, the game is up. 
Suppose I can't raise the spondulicks in time for 
the ten train! Maybe I had better drop a postal 
to Molly with some of my six sous so she can get 
it first pop in the morning." 

This she accordingly did. She found a to- 
bacco shop where stamps and postal cards were 
sold and mailed a piteous appeal to Molly. She 
then found a telegraph office and wrote a tele- 
gram to be sent collect, but the hard-hearted 
operator refused to send it unless she prepaid 
it, and that she could not do. Her French de- 
serted her whenever she thought of explaining 
her situation to anyone. She kept her eye open 
for Americans or even English, but not a sign 
of a foreigner did she see. 

"I might have raised a little money on the 
American flag if I only had not been so smart- 
Alec and given it to that old man. I wonder 


COALS OF FIRE 


209 


what possessed me to eat such an expensive 
lunch at Versailles! I fancy it was my virtuous 
resolve to be nice to Frances Andrews that made 
me feel like treating myself. Thank goodness 
for the gingerbread! I won’t starve, at least,” 
and she hugged to her faint heart the remains of 
her preserver in time of peril and need. 

Whom should she see approaching at this 
juncture but Frances Andrews and her grand- 
mother ? . Judy’s first feeling was one of delight ; 
but she remembered how rude she had been to 
Frances and her resolve to be nice to her, and felt 
if she should be cordial now there could be but 
one interpretation for Frances to put on it, and 
that would be: she had an ‘‘axe to grind.” 

She bowed coldly and Frances returned the 
salutation, but she stopped her to ask if the 
Browns were in Chartres, too. 

“No, I am here alone,” said Judy with great 
nonchalance, “I bid you good afternoon,” and 
she walked on, trying to keep her back from 
looking dejected. 

“Grandmother, there is something the matter 
with Miss Kean and I feel as though I should 
find out if she needs help,” said Frances, gazing 
after Judy until she turned the corner. 


210 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHARD HOME 


''Nonsense, my child. She is a bad-mannered 
piece. I have an idea I know why she is in 
Chartres. I believe it is a runaway match be- 
tween her and that dark, middle-aged man we 
met at the Browns’ tea. I caught a glimpse of 
him at the hotel at dejeuner to-day. Kinsella 
is his name. I could not quite place him but 
knew his face was familiar. You keep out of it. 
It is none of your business if persons choose to 
make fools of themselves,” and the irate old 
woman clutched her granddaughter’s arm and 
dragged her along. 

"There is no use in trying to stop me, Grand- 
mother. She is Molly Brown’s friend, and while 
she is horrid to me, I am going to see if she 
needs my help for Molly’s sake. You can get 
back to the hotel alone; if you can’t, just call a 
cab,” and Frances whisked off, leaving her aged 
relative fussing and fuming in the street. 

With all of Judy’s acting, Frances had seen 
that she was excited about something and she 
certainly had not the air of one coming to meet 
a lover. The day in the country had not been 
conducive to tidiness. Judy’s hair was blown, 
her collar and shirtwaist were rumpled, her shoes 


COALS OF FIEE 


211 


dusty and the tears in the train had left a smudge 
on her cheek. 

On turning the corner, Judy had discovered a 
pawnbroker’s shop. ^‘That is where people in 
books go when they are hard up, so that is where 
I am going,” she thought. 

It was kept by a benevolent looking old Jew, 
and benevolent he may have been, but Judy soon 
found out, as she expressed it, ‘‘He was not in 
business for his health.” 

She asked him what he would give her for her 
sketching kit. It was a very attractive and ex- 
pensive little box, with a palette, a drawer full of 
color tubes, a partition with sliding panels for 
sketching and a tray of brushes. He sniffed 
with disgust and said, “Two francs.” 

Judy’s heart sank. Forty cents for a box that 
cost at least ten dollars, counting the tubes of 
expensive colors! But she remembered that at 
a pawnbroker’s you can redeem your belongings, 
so she decided to take the forty cents and send 
a telegram with it. 

“There are some sketches in here that I should 
like to dispose of, too, but they are more valuable 
than the box,” she added slyly, having an instinct 
that she must meet the old man on his own 


212 MOLLY BKOWN^S OECHARD HOME 


ground and cry up her wares. ^'Be careful ! The 
paint is not quite dry on them.’’ 

She slid the panel with the Corot effect out of 
the back of the box and held it out to the ancient 
Shylock. He adjusted his horn spectacles on the 
end of his long nose and holding the sketch up- 
side down, viewed it critically. 

‘‘Ah, very pretty, very pretty; two francs fifty 
for it; but I want to buy it, not to be redeemed. 
Any more?” and the dealer stretched out his 
eager hand. 

Judy had two more which she got a franc 
apiece for, making in all six francs fifty, one dol- 
lar and thirty cents, enough to get her back to 
Paris traveling third class, since she already had 
her ticket from Versailles to Paris. 

“I can’t telegraph to Molly, though, I haven’t 
enough money,” she thought sorrowfully. “I 
hate to think how worried all of them will be. 
I should have told Frances about my predica- 
ment, but somehow I could not bring myself to 
ask a favor of her when I have always been so 
nasty to her.” 

The old pawnbroker could hardly wait for 
Judy to get out of his shop to begin his work on 
the sketches, converting them into perfectly 



Held it out to the ancient Shylock . — Page 212. 



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COALS OF FIRE 


213 


good, authentic antiques. The Corot effect he 
put by a very hot fire, not quite hot enough to 
scorch it but hot enough to dry it very quickly 
and bake it, so it was covered with innumerable 
tiny cracks. Then he took some shellac, dissolved 
in alcohol and mixed with a little yellow ochre, 
and sprayed this all over the sketch. The result 
was remarkable. He then slipped it into a heavy 
gilt frame (still upside down), and displayed it 
in his window with the price mark: forty francs, 
without the frame. 

Judy, feeling a little sad over her beloved 
sketching kit but jubilant over her financial suc- 
cess, started down the street and bumped right 
into Frances Andrews, who was eagerly search- 
ing for her. Judy made a sudden resolve to be 
nice to Frances from that time on. Frances 
spoke first: 

‘'Miss Kean, I do not want to intrude on you, 
but I want you to feel that you can call on me 
to serve you in any way in my power. We are 
both of us Molly’s friends and somehow I have 
a feeling that you need help of some sort.” 

“Frances — I am not going to call you Miss 
Andrews — I have been in a pickle but since I 
met you and your grandmother on the street I 


214 MOLLY BKOWN^S ORCHARD HOME 


have come into a fortune of a dollar and thirty 
cents, so my troubles are about over. I am going 
to tell you all about it, but first I want to tell you 
that I am sorry I have been so rude and hateful 
and cold to you. I have been out in the country 
alone with my conscience all day and determined 
to be a nicer, sweeter girl and to apologize to you 
and to Molly; but I got on the train at Versailles 
going away from Paris instead of towards it, 
and landed here in Chartres with only six sous 
in my purse. When I met you on the street, I 
felt if I told you how sorry I was that I had been 
so studiedly mean, you would think I had a 
change of heart because I wanted something out 
of you; but now that I have earned enough to 
get back to Paris, you can’t think that. You 
show yourself to be generous-hearted and kind 
by coming back to look me up after I was so un- 
bearable to you and your grandmother. You 
have heaped coals of fire on my head.” 

As the girls talked they had come near the 
hotel where Frances and her grandmother were 
stopping. 

‘'Well, Judy — I can’t call you Miss Kean ever 
again — I think you are simply splendid and 
worthy to be Molly’s friend and I do thank you 


COALS OF FIEE 


215 


for what you have said. Now you must promise 
to have dinner with grandmother and me at the 
hotel and you can come up to my room and rest.’’ 
And be it said right here that Frances proved 
herself to be very much of a lady for not adding 
"‘and wash your face,” for Judy’s face was 
ludicrously dirty. “Grandmother said she 
thought she saw Mr. Kinsella at the hotel.” 

“What, Uncle Tom? How splendid!” ex- 
claimed Judy, realizing that her troubles were at 
last over. 

Mr. Kinsella was sitting on the piazza as they 
approached. He jumped to his feet and hurried 
down the steps. Explanations were soon over 
and the kind gentleman took affairs in his own 
hands. The plan was that all of them should 
take the ten o’clock train back to Paris. Mr. 
Kinsella went off immediately to telegraph Mrs. 
Brown of Judy’s whereabouts. 

The friends in Rue Brea had begun to be very 
uneasy about Judy. All they knew was what 
Elise could tell them of the girl’s sudden deter- 
mination to cut the art school and spend the 
morning in the country. Dark came and no 
Judy. Pierce Kinsella was called into consul ta- 


216 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


tion and could throw no light on the subject. Jo 
Williams consoled them greatly by saying: 

''Don’t worry about Judy Kean. She is the 
kind to light on her feet.” 

So she was, but worry they did. Elise re- 
proached herself for not going with her. Pierce 
wished his uncle had come back as he had half 
hoped he would that afternoon. They were a 
very disconsolate crowd. It was seven o’clock 
and no clue to their beloved friend. A knock 
on the door: ^'Une depeche pour Madame 
Bruner 

"A telegram, a telegram!” Mrs. Brown’s 
hands trembled so that Pierce had to open it for 
her. 

"Why, it is from Uncle Tom! ^Miss Judy 
Kean safe in Chartres with me. Will arrive in 
Paris at midnight. T. Kinsella.’ That’s all.” 

"Well, of all things! What is Judy doing in 
Chartres?” exclaimed Molly and her mother in 
one breath. 

Elise, her face crimson and eye flashing, burst 
out with : "Lighting on her feet, evidently, like the 
cat she is !” She covered her face with her hands 
and fled to her room. 

Pierce looked mystified, the Browns both dis- 


COALS OF FIRE 


2ir 

tressed, and Jo Williams snorted: ‘‘So thafs 
what is the matter 

In the meantime, Judy was having a splendid 
time. Knowing her friends in Rue Brea were no 
longer worrying about her, she gave herself up 
to enjoyment. Mr. Kinsella dined with the three 
ladies and Judy kept them in a gale with the 
description of her day of adventure. That young 
woman never did things by halves, and she was 
now engaged in fascinating Frances and her 
grandmother with as much spirit as she had 
formerly exercised in insulting them. The old 
lady was completely won over and Frances was 
too glad to have Molly’s friends like her not to 
want to let bygones be bygones. 

After dinner Mr. Kinsella redeemed the 
sketching kit, paying twenty per cent, interest for 
the loan. He saw the Corot in the window, 
where it looked very genuine in its old gilt frame. 
He offered the man forty francs for it, including 
the frame and the bargain was clinched in short 
order. They made very merry over this, and 
Judy descanted on the genius that could paint a 
picture that looked just as well upside down as 
rightside up. 

“You see the bit of sky in the upper right cor- 


218 . MOLLY BKOWN^S ORCHARD HOME 

ner makes very good water when turned over, 
and the water in the lower right corner makes 
a dandy sky/^ 

Mr. Kinsella wrapped his prize up very care- 
fully and said he intended to fool Pierce with his 
find of a genuine old master. 


CHAPTER XV. 

MR. KmSthhA's INDIAN SUMMER. 

The next morning Molly arranged a tray with 
a very inviting breakfast and took it to Elise’s 
room. She found her still in bed, looking very 
woebegone and wistful. 

"‘Oh, Molly! You should not spoil me so. I 
was getting up, at least thinking about getting 
up. I did not sleep very well at first and towards 
morning went off into such a deep slumber that 
I could not wake up,’' exclaimed the girl. 

“I love to spoil people, besides you are always 
the energetic one and might for once be allowed 
a little morning snooze. I hope Judy and I did 
not keep you awake. She had so many adven- 
tures to tell me that it was two o’clock before we 
quieted down. She got into the wrong train at 
Versailles and was landed at Chartres with only 
six sous in her pocket. With part of this wealth 
she sent me this postal which has just come, fear- 
ing when she sent it that she might have to spend 
the night in Chartres. Only read it and see what 
219 


220 MOLLY BEOWN’S OECHAED HOME 

a plight she was in/^ said Molly, handing the 
smudgy, pencilled postal to Elise. 

"'Dearest Molly : Here I am alone in Chartres, 
where as far as I can see there is not one friendly 
soul. Got on the wrong train at Versailles. Have 
five sous left after buying this postal but am not 
discouraged. Will try to sell my sketch box. 
Have no jewelry but have enough gingerbread to 
keep me from starving. Will sit up all night in 
station. Get Pierce to come for me in morning 
and bring my toothbrush. Will be home soon as 
I get some money. Judy.” 

"Guess whom she met first in Chartres : Fran- 
ces Andrews and her grandmother! Then Mr. 
Kinsella. But before she did anything, she sold 
her sketches for enough to get her here third 
class on the train. She has made up with Frances 
and is now as enthusiastic about her as she used 
to be down on her. What a Judy she is, anyhow ! 

"Mr. Kinsella has been here twice this morn- 
ing to ask if he could see you. He is afraid you 
are ill because you are sleeping so late. He told 
me to beg you not to go to the art school this 
morning but to take a holiday with him. He says 
this wonderful weather will have to break soon, 
as it is too unseasonable to last.” 


MR. KINSELLA’S INDIAN SUMMER 221 


Molly’s heart was filled with joy to see the 
effect her words had on her friend. 

Elise finished the last crumb of croissant and 
drained the last drop of coffee. ‘It does seem 
best to take advantage of the good weather for 
a little outing, and, besides, the model we have 
is thoroughly uninteresting this week.” 

Elise bounced out of bed and Molly noticed 
that all trace of her bad night had left her face. 
Elise did not remember that only the day before 
she had thought the model too interesting to 
think of cutting work for the day ! 

Judy, peeping from her balcony where Molly 
had been spoiling her, too, with breakfast in 
bed, saw Mr. Kinsella and Elise start off on their 
jaunt. 

“Molly, Molly!” she screamed. “I have made 
a most wonderful discovery: Elise and Mr. 
Kinsella are — are — ^well, seekin’ ! As they went 
off just now there was something in the way he 
looked at her and she looked at him that made me 
know it’s so.” 

“Well, old mole, if you had not been as blind 
as a bat you would have seen that all winter. I 
was dead to tell you, so you would not make Elise 
so jealous of you, but mother would not let me. 


222 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


She thought it would not be fair to Elise. I 

knew if you knew you would be careful ’’ 

but Judy could not let Molly finish. 

‘'Careful! Elise jealous of me! Uncle Tom 
and me! Oh, Molly, Molly, how absurd! Why, 
Mr. Kinsella has kept close to me to be ready to 
catch Pierce by the heels and pull him out, in 
case I should decide to gobble him up. I thought 
everybody knew that. The only reason he de- 
cided to go off on this trip was that I had a 
heart-to-heart talk with him and told him that he 
need not have any fear of me, that I was — 
was — but never mind what I told him. Any- 
how, he is not afraid Pll make a meal of his be- 
loved Pierce.^' 

“How about Pierce?” asked Molly. “Is he, 
too, relieved at his assured safety?” 

“That kid!” sniffed Judy. “He is not in the 
least in love with anything but his art. I fancy 
it would bore him to death if he thought Uncle 
Tom and I had had that talk. He likes me just 
as he would another boy.” 

Molly felt very happy that the clouds were all 
clearing away and her friends were behaving as 
friends should. She went off to her lecture hop- 
ing that Mr. Kinsella and Elise would quickly 


MR KINSELLA’S INDIAN SUMMER 223 


come to an understanding, and glad that she and 
her beloved Judy were once more on the old con- 
fidential terms. 

Mr. Kinsella and Elise did come to an under- 
standing and that understanding was perfectly 
satisfactory to both of them. They spent a won- 
derful day together, following the trail Judy had 
taken the day before, the morning at St. Cloud, 
with luncheon later on at Versailles. But they 
did not dance with the wedding parties they met, 
nor did they take the wrong train and go to 
Chartres instead of back to Paris. 

It seemed so marvelous to Mr. Kinsella that 
this young, handsome, brilliant girl should find 
anything in him to care for, middle-aged, care- 
worn man that he felt himself to be. On the 
other hand, Elise was equally astonished that a 
man of Mr. Kinsella’s keen intelligence and ex- 
perience could put up with a foolish, silly girl 
like herself. He endeavored to make her under- 
stand what a remarkable young woman she 
really was ; and she tried equally hard to explain 
to him that his age was one of his chief attrac- 
tions in her eyes, but that his virtues were so 
numerous it was hard to tell which ones made 
her love him so much. 


224 MOLLY BEOWN^S OECHAKD HOME 


At any rate, they came back to Paris with a 
much better opinion of themselves than they had 
taken away. Mr. Kinsella looked more than ever 
like a gray-haired Pierce. He said he had taken 
a dip in the fountain of eternal youth and never 
intended to get a day older than he was. Elise's 
eyes were sparkling and her cheeks all aglow. 
Her mother could not have complained that she 
lacked animation now or that her sallow com- 
plexion needed steaming. 

When they returned to the studio in Rue Brea, 
they found Mrs. Brown, Molly and Judy trying 
not to look expectant, but, as Judy said, ‘'ready 
to pop with curiosity.'’ EHse ran to Mrs. Brown, 
and throwing her arms around her dear chap- 
erone, hid her blushing face on her shoulder; 
while Mr. Kinsella, with boyish ingenuousness, 
said: “Well, what do you think? Elise and I 
have gone and done it 

Enthusiastic congratulations followed and no 
one asked the question: “Done what?" 

“We thought at first we would not tell for a 
few days, but keep our secret; but I have been 
persuading Elise that there is no use in waiting 
for wedding finery. She is beautiful enough in 
the clothes she has. And we have determined 


MR. KINSELLA’S INDIAN SUMMER 225 

to go to Rome, where Mrs. Huntington now is, 
and be married immediately.’’ 

''That will be splendid,” declared Mrs. Brown, 
"but we are sorry not to have it here, so we can 
all be present. I hate to give up my girl, but, of 
course, she must go straight to her mother.” 

"The only thing I don’t like about it is for me, 
of all people, to be the one to interrupt Elise’s 
studies at the art school, after all my talk about 
its being so important for her to get in a winter 
of hard, continuous work! I am afraid Mrs. 
Huntington will think I am not very consistent,” 
laughed the happy fiance. 

Molly was wondering, too, what Mrs. Hunt- 
ington would think of the match. She hoped 
Mr. Kinsella had told Elise of his former attach- 
ment to her mother, and that Elise would be pre- 
pared for the more than probable taunts from 
that far from considerate lady. Mr. Kinsella 
was well aware of the disposition of his prospec- 
tive mother-in-law, and had prepared Elise by 
divulging to her the fact that he had at one time 
been engaged to her mother; but he spared her 
the knowledge of her perfidy. Mrs. Hunt- 
ington had already told her daughter of what she 
designated a conquest of Tom Kinsella, as she 


226 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


was ever inclined to boast of the number of 
scalps of former suitors and to wear them as 
ornaments. 

Mrs. Huntington proved to be very much 
pleased with the alliance. She had tried to in- 
form herself of Mr. Kinsella’s affairs and had 
been delighted to learn that he was really rich. 
She was too keen an observer not to know that 
Mr. Kinsella’s interest in Elise was not alto- 
gether because of her father, nor yet her artistic 
talent. She had predicted to herself from the 
first that Tom Kinsella was falling in love with 
her daughter, and felt that her wisest course was 
to take herself off and not interfere in any way. 

Elise, accompanied by her adoring lover and 
Pierce (Pierce rather dazed by the rapidity of 
the proceedings), and chaperoned by a lady pro- 
duced by the ever resourceful Marquis d’Ochte, 
made her journey to Rome. She found her 
mother in a most gracious humor and not even 
inclined to object to the marriage being hurried. 
Elise had rather feared she would obstruct their 
plans with a plea for wedding clothes, but her 
mother knew very well when it was wise to ac- 
quiesce. She gave in very gracefully and actu- 
ally consented to Elise’s being married in a dress 


MR. KINSELLA’S INDIAN SUMMER 227 


that was not absolutely new nor of the latest cut. 

She felt repaid for her amiability when Mr. 
Kinsella informed her that his wife intended, 
with his entire approval, to make over the bulk 
of her fortune to her mother on her twenty-fifth 
birthday. 

have enough for all of us, but I know you 
will be happier if you have an independent for- 
tune,’’ said the happy bridegroom. ‘^I am so 
grateful to you for letting me have Elise that I 
wish I could do something to show my apprecia- 
tion.” 

"'All I can say is that Elise is a very fortunate 
girl,” said Mrs. Huntington; and there was a 
glitter in her eye that looked hard but it was 
really an unaccustomed tear trying to form itself. 

And so Elise and Mr. Kinsella went off on 
their honeymoon. We will not even try to find 
out where they went, but be glad to know that 
they found each other more and more delightful 
and congenial as time passed. Mr. Kinsella gave 
the impression more than ever of being a 
prematurely gray young man as happiness 
smoothed out the few lines in his face. Elise lost 
altogether the hard, bitter expression that had 
occasionally marred her beauty, and quickly 


228 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

blossomed into the sweet, lovely woman that 
Mother Nature had planned her to be but that 
her own mother had blindly and selfishly tried to 
nip in the bud. 


CHAPTER XVL 

APPI.E BLOSSOM riMt IN NORMANDY. 

After the excitement occasioned by EHse's and 
Mr. Kinsella’s sudden decision to go to Rome and 
be married, our friends in the Rue Brea settled 
down to weeks of hard work, interspersed with 
many delightful jaunts to theaters, picture gal- 
leries and places of interest in and near Paris. 

Molly got much from the lectures at the Sor- 
bonne and to her delight found she could ''think 
in French.’’ They say that is the true test of 
whether you know a language. 

Judy and Pierce worked diligently at their re- 
spective art schools and made great progress. 
Judy took no more trips to the country alone. 
She said she was big enough, old enough, and 
ugly enough to take care of herself, but she was 
afraid she did not have sense enough. 

Mrs. Brown was enjoying herself quite as 
much as the young people. Her cousin, the 
marchioness, looked to it that she did not become 

lonesome, including her in all of her plans, tak- 
229 


230 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


ing her shopping, to clubs and lectures, to teas 
and receptions. The Marquis d’Ochte and his 
son Philippe were always delighted when the 
American cousins were able to dine with them, 
and they had many charming evenings in their 
company. 

Philippe was a faithful courier, holding him- 
self in readiness to conduct them any and every- 
where. He confided to his mother that he could 
not decide which girl, Molly or Judy, he loved 
most. 

''How happy could I be with either, were 
Pother dear charmer away,’' he sighed. 

"Well, my opinion is you will fall between two 
stools if you can’t decide which one you want,” 
answered his mother a little sharply, considering 
that it was her beloved son she was addressing. 
"Of course Molly is my choice, but Judy is 
charming and lovely, and if you think you will 
be happier with her you must not consider me. 
For my part, I have my doubts about either one 
of them accepting you.” But Sally Bolling 
d’Ochte was not quite her honest self when she 
made that last remark, as she did not see how 
any girl in her senses could refuse her beautiful 
young son. "Next week we will all be at Roche 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 


231 


Craie and maybe you can fix your seesawing 
heart. Cousin Mildred and the girls are de- 
lighted at the thought of getting out to the coun- 
try for awhile, and goodness knows, Fll be glad 
to quit the glitter of Paris for a quiet rest.’’ 

All of them were glad to have a change. The 
spring was well under way. Paris was never 
more beautiful, with flowers everywhere; but 
Mrs. Brown confessed to being a little tired of 
housekeeping; and Molly was looking a little 
fagged. The lecture rooms were hot and the 
dinners at the restaurants were not so delightful, 
now that the novelty had worn off. Spring 
fever was the real matter with them and a good 
lazy time at the chateau in Normandy was all 
that was necessary to put them on their feet 
again. Pierce Kinsella had been included in the 
invitation, as the marchioness slyly told her son, 
to take care of the girl that he, Philippe, would 
finally decide not to be the one of all others for 
him. 

Roche Craie was very interesting to the Amer- 
icans. It was a castle literally dug out of chalk 
cliffs. The so-called new chateau (only about 
two hundred years old), was built out in front, 
but the original old castle was little more than a 


232 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 


cave or series of caves. The family used only 
the new part but kept it all in absolute repair. 
The architecture was pure Gothic, vaulted roofs 
and pointed arches. Where the roof and walls 
were dug in the chalk, there was an attempt at 
carving, carrying out the Gothic spirit. Huge 
chimneys had their openings in the fields over- 
head, and strange, indeed, did it seem to find one 
of these old chimneys in a wheat field with pop- 
pies and corn flowers growing in its crevices. 

''A very convenient country for Santa Claus 
to ply his trade,’^ said Molly to Philippe, who 
was showing her over the estate. ''But what is 
this peaked thing with the cross on it?'^ 

"Oh, that is the steeple to the chapel, which is 
dug very far back under the hill and is one of 
the most interesting things about Roche Craie, 
We did not take you there this morning when we 
were showing you over the old castle, as my 
mother has a kind of horror of it and hates to 
go in it. There is a ghost story connected with 
it, and you must know by this time how ma mere 
shuns the disagreeable things of this life,” an- 
swered Philippe, looking at Molly with growing 
admiration. Some persons seem to belong out 
of doors and Molly was one of them. Her clear, 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 


233 


fine complexion could stand the searchlight of 
the brightest sun, her hair was like burnished 
gold, her eyes, Philippe thought, like the bluets in 
the fields of Normandy. 

''Cousin Molly, you remind me of the beautiful 
Jehane de Saint-Pol, Jehane of the Fair Girdle, 
the beloved of Richard Coeur de Lion, Richard 
Yea-and-Nay. Her eyes were gray green while 
yours are of the most wonderful blue, but there 
is something about your height and slenderness, 
your poise, the set of your head, the glory of 
your hair that suggests her. If Mother gives the 
fancy dress ball that she is threatening, please go 
as Jehane. I should like to go as Richard.’’ 

Molly blushed. She was always confused by 
compliments and personalities and hoped Phil- 
ippe would stop pressing them on her. They had 
been pleasant companions in Paris and she had 
liked being with him very much. He was ex- 
tremely agreeable and well-informed, handsome 
and charming, but Molly preferred him as a cou- 
sin to a courtier. She had an idea that the title 
of "Yea-and-Nay” was rather suitable for him, 
more suitable than "Lion Hearted.” 

"Please tell me the ghost story about the 


234 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHAED HOME 


chapel/’ she begged, changing the subject 
adroitly. 

‘‘All right, if you won’t tell mother I told it. 
She has a horror of it and is afraid the servants 
might get timid and refuse to stay here alone 
while we are in Paris, if the old tale were revived. 
My people, you perhaps know, were Huguenots. 
The archives show that it was from flocks of 
sheep belonging to Roche Crate that the wool was 
taken to send as a present to Queen Elizabeth of 
England, in return for her gift of nine pieces of 
cannon to the downtrodden Huguenots. 

“The owner of Roche Craie was one Jean 
d’Ochte, a man of great intelligence and integ- 
rity. He had been a gay courtier at the court 
of Charles IX, but, there, had come under the in- 
fluence of Admiral Coligny and had turned 
Huguenot. His wife, much younger than him- 
self, the beautiful Elizabeth, a cousin of the 
Guises, followed her husband’s example but saw 
no reason why she need give up all gaiety and 
pleasure because of her change of heart. But 
Jean took her away from the court and all of its 
dissipations and dangers and brought her here to 
the old chateau, where she was literally buried 
alive in stupidity and ennpi. 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 


235 


'^Jean fought with the Prince of Conde against 
the Guises, but when peace was finally declared 
in 1570, I think it was, he came back to Roche 
Craie and began to get his estate in order. Eliz- 
abeth besought him to take her back to court 
where she had been a great favorite, but he 
feared that the life of gaiety would undermine 
her not too strenuous piety, and refused. 

‘‘The Huguenots were seemingly in great 
favor with Catherine de Medicis, who was pre- 
paring for her great coup, the Massacre of St. 
Bartholomew. The d'Ochtes were not over- 
looked by the cruel queen, but a guard was sent 
to Roche Craie headed by a zealous Jesuit. Jean 
was murdered in his bed but Elizabeth escaped 
with her little son Henri to the chapel. She shut 
the great iron door and managed to place the 
heavy bar so that the soldiers could not open it, 
but the artful Jesuit came up into this field and 
made the soldiers tear down the steeple and then 
he lowered himself into the chapel with a rope. 
It was raining in torrents and as the steeple was 
removed the floor was deluged. Elizabeth hid 
her little son behind the altar and ran to the 
door hoping, it is supposed, to divert the atten- 
tion of the furious priest from her son to herself. 


236 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

She shrieked, and the soldiers in the field above 
heard her agonizing cry, 'God help me, God help 
meT 

"There was a tremendous clap of thunder and 
a blinding flash of lightning. The Jesuit lunged 
forward with his dagger raised, but the lightning 
struck before he could, and he and the Lady 
Elizabeth met death at the same moment. 
Strange to say, the little Henri, hiding behind 
the altar, was unharmed. The bolt from heaven 
had come straight through the aperture made by 
tearing down this steeple, not touching the sold- 
iers in the field above or the frightened child 
below. It is said that the bodies of the lady and 
the priest were both entirely consumed. The 
soldiers, taking it as a sign from heaven, spared 
the young heir of Roche Craie; otherwise, the 
race would have been exterminated on that 
dreadful day. 

"And now for the ghost story after my long 
narrative, which I am afraid must have bored 
you sadly.’’ 

"Oh, don’t think it ! I have been thrilled by it. 
Please go on,” exclaimed Molly. 

"You are very kind to find it interesting. It 
always excites me, especially when I think how 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 


237 


dose little Henri was to being killed ; and had he 
not been spared, I myself could never have come 
into existence/' 

“That would have been a calamity, indeed," 
laughed Molly. 

“Would it have made any difference to you. 
Cousin Molly? I should like to think it would 
have made some difference to you," and Philippe 
looked rather more ardent than Molly liked to 
see him. 

“Of course it would make loads of difference 
to all of us, Philippe. But the ghost story, the 
ghost story! I believe you are afraid to tell it 
to me." 

“Well, the legend runs that on a stormy night 
if the floor of the chapel, which is paved with 
soapstone, gets wet, the footprints of the Lady 
Elizabeth, where she ran across the deluged 
floor, are plainly visible. She was just out of 
her bed and her feet were bare. They say it 
shows she had a very small foot with a high 
arch, the print of the heel, a space where the in- 
step arches over, and then the ball of the foot 
and the tiny toes. Peasants passing in the field 
above have heard (provided the night is stormy 
enough), the agonizing cry, 'God help me, God 


238 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


help me!' seeming to come from the old steeple.'^ 

‘^How wonderful ! But tell me, have you never 
seen the footprints yourself?" 

'‘Mother has such a horror of the story and the 
talk about ghosts that I have spared her feelings 
and never put the legend to the test. I used to 
think rd go some stormy night alone to the 
chapel, but when the stormy nights come I am too 
sleepy or too indolent or afraid of disturbing 
mother or something else turns up, and I never 
have done it." 

The young heir of the d'Ochtes led his cousin 
to a higher point of the hill overlooking the cha- 
teau where he could show her the whole estate of 
Roche Craie, It was a beautiful sight. The 
gentle hills sloped to the Seine with here and 
there a sharp cleft showing a cliff of chalk, 
standing out very white against the green of the 
spring grass. 

Some of the peasants had their homes in the 
cliffs, and Philippe assured Molly that they were 
very comfortable, dry houses. It was a vast 
estate in the highest state of cultivation. The 
village was clean and prosperous, consisting of 
about twenty houses besides the ones dug in the 
cliffs, two shops and an inn. Across the river 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 23^ 

was a forest of great trees that made the beeches 
at Chatsworth seem saplings. 

“Is the land across the river yours, too?’’ she 
asked. 

“Yes, indeed, that is the best part of Roche 
Craie, My studies at Nancy have taught me 
what to do to keep our forest, and I am at work 
now preserving those beautiful old trees. You 
do like it here, don't you. Cousin Molly? It does, 
not seem small and mean to you after Chats- 
worth, does it?" 

“Small and mean! It is beautiful, the most 
beautiful place I ever saw! You must not get 
an idea that Chatsworth is magnificent like this." 

As Molly looked out across the hills of this 
splendid French estate she thought of her home 
in Kentucky, of the beech woods and the orchard 
as it was before the old tree they called their 
castle blew down ; and then she began to wonder 
what the orchard looked like now with Professor 
Green's bungalow occupying the site of the old 
castle. There had been no letter for her from 
Wellington, the week before she left Paris for 
Normandy, and the girl had secretly hoped it 
meant perhaps that her friend was on the eve of 
his departure from America. She longed for 


240 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHAED HOME 


some definite news both of Professor Green and 
her brother Kent. 

'*What are you thinking about, Cousin Molly?'’ 

*'Apple trees," answered Molly, coming back 
to earth. 

''Oh, are you especially fond of apple trees? 
I must show you the orchard over this hill. It is 
in bloom and a very beautiful sight. Not much 
to look at unless it is in bloom, however," and 
Philippe conducted Molly over the brow of an- 
other hill where a very orderly apple orchard 
was in full bloom. 

Philippe broke off a spray for her. "I must 
not let the steward see me do such a thing. The 
old man would count the blossoms and tell me 
I had spoiled so many apples." 

Molly buried her face in the cluster of flowers 
and her thoughts flew back again to the trees at 
Chatsworth, not the orderly, trimmed ones like 
these of Normandy, but old and gnarled and 
twisted. The dream she had had on the steamer 
came back to her and again she felt Edwin Green 
leaning over her, looking at her with his kind 
brown eyes and saying: "Molly, this is your 
orchard home." 

She was awakened from her revery by Phi- 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 


241 


lippe, who seized her hand, apple blossoms and 
all, and addressed her in the most impassioned 
tones: ‘^Cousin Molly! Molly, dearest Molly! I 
have longed for this moment as I want to tell 
you how much I am gratified that you like Roche 
Crate. The place means so much to my mother 
and father and to me that we are happy when 
any one likes it, but for you of all persons to be 
pleased with it, adds to its value in our eyes. We 
all of us want you to make your home here. I 
know it would be more convenable for me to ad- 
dress your mother first, but since I am half 
American you will pardon me if I let that half 
speak to you, and later on the French half can 
arrange with your charming mother.’’ 

Molly was greatly mystified. At first she had 
feared that Philippe was going to make love to 
her when he had seized her hand with so much 
ardor; but it turned out that he was merely 
offering Roche Craie as a home to her mother 
and herself in the name of the Marquis and Mar- 
quise d’Ochte. She was greatly relieved that he 
was not going to be sentimental and answered 
him gratefully: 

'Wou are very kind, Philippe, but mother and 
I have our home in Kentucky, and while we are 


242 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


enjoying our stay in France, every moment of 
it, we have every intention of returning to our 
own country in the course of time. I cannot 
answer for mother, but I am almost sure she 
will take the same stand I do.’' 

“But should she not, would you abide by her 
decision, like a dutiful daughter?” exclaimed 
Philippe eagerly. “My own mother has been 
very happy in her adopted country and you are 
strangely like her in some ways.” 

“Yes, but Cousin Sally had every reason for 
remaining in France. She had her Jean ” 

“Ah,” interrupted Philippe, “would not you 
have your Philippe? Could I not be as much to 
you as my father has been to my mother ?” 

At last Molly understood. Her cousin was 
proposing to her. Molly was by nature so kind 
that her first feeling was one of pity for the 
young man as she hated to hurt his feelings ; but 
she was sure that he did not love her in the least 
and that her refusal of him would astonish him 
but not give him a single heartache. 

“Philippe,” she answered, looking him straight 
in the eye without sign of coquetry or softness, 
“you know very well you could never be to me 
what your father is to your mother; and one of 


APPLE BLOSSOM TIME 


24a 


the biggest reasons is that I am not to you what 
your mother is to your father and never could 
be. You are not in love with me nor am I in 
love with you. I have liked you a whole lot and 
I believe you like me, but there must be more than 
mere liking to make it right to marry. I don’t see 
how you could have lived always in the house 
with your mother and father, who are as much 
sweethearts now as when they first married, and 
not understand something about real love.” 

Philippe’s feelings ran the gamut from aston- 
ishment and embarrassment to humility. He 
was not by nature a conceited fellow, but so many 
mothers and fathers of so many demoiselles had 
approached him with a view to an alliance for 
those daughters, that it had never really entered 
his head that, when the time came for him to 
make a decision in choice of a wife, he would be 
refused. He did like Molly very much, liked and 
admired her, found her agreeable and interest- 
ing, lovely to behold and such a lady, and at the 
same time so perfectly acceptable to his beloved 
mother and father. She was in fact so entirely 
suitable to become the future Marquise d’Ochte. 
Had his mother not made a wonderful success 
as a marchioness? Were she and Molly not of 


244 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


the same blood and traditions? True, he did not 
have for Molly the grand passion that novelists 
write of; but a sincere liking might last longer 
than the so-called grand passion. 

Molly’s words brought him upstanding. After 
all, he did not understand anything about real 
love, not as much as this chit of an American 
girl. He bowed his head for a moment in deep 
dejection, and then, shrugging his shoulders, he 
smiled into her stern eyes a little wistfully. 

thank you. Cousin Molly, for your salutary 
admonishment. You are right; I do not know 
what real love means. I have an idea I could 
learn, though, with as good a teacher as I am 
sure you would be. I value your friendship and 
liking so much that I am going to ask you to 
forget that I have made this stupid proposal and 
let us continue the good comrades we have been.” 

"'Oh, Philippe, I have already forgotten it! 
You must not think I was severe, but I do like 
you so much I hated for you to demean your- 
self.” 

"There is one thing I should like to ask you. 
Cousin Molly: how do you happen to know so 
much about true love ?” And the young man, his 
equanimity entirely restored, looked teasingly at 
his cousin. "Is it entirely theoretical?” 


CHAPTER XVIL 


THIS GHOST IN CHAPE)!.. 

Philippe told his mother of the outcome of his 
proposal to Molly and when he repeated her re- 
mark about her and her Jean, the good lady shed 
tears of remorse that she had encouraged 
Philippe to want to marry a girl that she well 
knew her son did not really and truly love. 
Molly’s answer made her realize even more than 
before the fine, true heart of her little Kentucky 
cousin, and her regret was very great that Molly 
was not to become the bride of her son. 

''Ah, my boy, how stupid we have been ! Here 
you and I have gone serenely on all winter, con- 
fident that either one of these lovely girls, Judy 
or Molly, was ready to drop like a ripe plum if 
you but touched the tree. We never once thought 
of the damage we might do one of the girls. Sup- 
pose you had engaged the affections of both of 
them, while you were deciding which one you 
wanted the more? Thank goodness, there are no 
245 


246 MOLLY BEOWN^S OKCHAKD HOME 


hearts broken, not even yours. Tell me, dear : will 
you try for Judy now?’’ 

‘'As our American friends say: ‘Not on your 
life,’ ” laughed Philippe. “Molly has taught me 
a lesson. I am not in love with Miss Julia Kean 
even as much as with my cousin, and with the 
example of happiness ever before my eyes that 
you and my father present, I shall be very care- 
ful and pick out for my wife one whom I truly 
love and who, I hope, truly loves me. I can’t 
quite see how I escaped falling deeply in love 
with Cousin Molly. She is so sweet and so every- 
thing that I admire. Do you know, ma mere, I 
have an idea that the Providence that looks after 
children and fools has protected me from a 
calamity which falling in love with Molly would 
have been ? I have a feeling that my little cousin 
is already in love with someone else, and that 
there never has been a chance for me.” 

“Well, what a wise young man a refusal has 
made of you !” teased his mother. “Two or three 
more experiences of the sort will make a real 
savant of you. What makes you have this feel- 
ing, this pricking in your thumbs?” 

“Something about the way she spoke of love. 
Her eyes are certainly the mirrors of her soul. 


THE GHOST IH THE CHAPEL 


247 


and there was a look in them that made me feel 
she knew what she was talking about/' 

‘Well, we never can tell. I am glad my 
thoughtlessness and stupidity have not done any 
damage," said the marchioness, looking fondly 
at her handsome son and thinking in her heart 
that both girls must be either blind or already 
very much in love not to be crazy about her 
Adonis. 

That night, the soft white clouds that had 
been the despair of Judy and Pierce all day as 
they had vainly tried to put them on canvas, came 
together and managed to make a very large black 
cloud which finally filled the whole heavens ; and 
a fierce thunder storm ensued. 

Molly and Judy lay awake talking. Judy had 
the hardihood to accuse Molly of having turned 
down a chance to become the future Marquise 
d'Ochte. 

“How on earth do you know, Judy? I would 
never think of telling such a thing even to you, 
my very best friend. It seems a very unfair 
advantage to take of a man, to let people know 
he has been refused. But you are the greatest 
guesser in the world." 

“It didn't take much guessing to come to this 


248 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

conclusion. Who’s a mole now, you old bat? I 
have known for some time that the handsome 
Philippe has had us both under consideration and 
it was a toss up which one would be honored. 
I was betting on you but hoping I would draw 
the prize,” laughed Judy. 

‘^Oh, Judy!” exclaimed Molly, shocked a little 
and wondering if, after all, Judy was just flirt- 
ing with her brother Kent. 

‘‘Oh, I didn’t want to accept him, but I just 
wanted to jar him a little! I like him very much 
and am crazy about his mother and father, but 
his complacency in regard to you and me has 
rather — rather — well, ‘got my goat.’ I don’t 
know how else to put it. It has never entered 
his aristocratic French mind that we would think 
of refusing him. He isn’t exactly conceited, in 
fact, I don’t think he is at all conceited; but 
things have come his way too much all his life. 

“But my, wouldn’t it be great to be mistress 
of this wonderful place? The chateau is simply 
perfect and the country around just screaming to 
be painted. Pierce and I found so many motifs 
this morning that I know I could live here a hun- 
dred years and not paint half of them.. I am 
afraid if Philippe had chosen ‘Apple Blossom 


THE GHOST IH THE CHAPEL 


249 


Time in Normandy’ to make love to me; and had 
first taken me on a high hill and shown me all 
of his wonderful estates, that I should have been 
tempted to make a marriage de convenance, in 
spite of my desire to jar your handsome cousin. 
Pierce and I were on the opposite hill trying 
to paint some cloud effects when Philippe broke 
off a spray of apple blossoms and gave it to you. 
I couldn’t help seeing what ensued; but I got 
in front of Pierce, so he missed the tableau; 
and he was so taken up with the clouds that he 
did not know he was missing anything.” 

Molly was thankful for the darkness that hid 
her hot face. But the storm was becoming so 
severe that Judy dropped the subject and got up 
to look out of the window for more cloud ef- 
fects. 

‘'Oh, Judy, I forgot to tell you that Philippe 
told me the ghost story connected with the old 
chateau ! Come on back to bed and I’ll tell it to 
you,” said Molly. 

Judy accordingly abandoned the study of the 
storm clouds and eagerly drank in every word 
Molly had to tell her of the beautiful Elizabeth 
and the terrible night of Saint Bartholomew. 

“Oh, Molly, delicious thrills are running up 


250 MOLLY BEOWN^S OECHAED HOME 


and down my backbone ? And you say Philippe 
has never been to the chapel on a stormy night 
to test the truth of the story? Lived here all 
his life and never had the get-up-and-get to go 
find out? That is the keynote of his character. 
He lacks imagination, and that is one big reason 
both of us have had for not succumbing to his 
charms. There is no telling what havoc he might 
have played with our hearts if he had had more 
imagination.’’ 

Then both girls lay still listening to the storm, 
each one thinking of another good reason she 
had for not falling in love with poor Philippe, 
even if he had been gifted with the imagina- 
tion of a Byron. 

''Oh, what a clap of thunder!” Judy clutched 
Molly and held her close. "I have always been 
more afraid of thunder than lightning. Molly, 
I wonder if Elizabeth’s footprints wouldn’t be 
visible on such a night? Let’s go see. I can’t 
sleep for thinking of her. We can easily get there 
without being seen or heard.” 

Wrapped in their kimonos and armed with 
Judy’s electric searchlight and a big pitcher of 
water, as Philippe had said the floor must be wet 
to bring out the footprints, the girls made their 


THE GHOST IN THE CHAPEL 


251 


way to the haunted chapel. They groped along 
narrow passages connecting the new chateau with 
the old. There was an entrance to the chapel 
through the old chateau made since the fatal 
night of Saint Bartholomew, but the girls were 
not aware of it. They opened a narrow door 
on the court and ran through the pouring rain 
to the great door of the chapel. It was not 
locked but very heavy and it took their combined 
strength to push it open. The few moments that 
it took to accomplish this were enough for them 
to become wet to the skin. 

How dark and grewsome the chapel was ! The 
storm was raging. Looking up through the 
cracks in the little steeple, they could see flash 
after flash of continuous white lightning. They 
might have spared themselves the trouble of 
bringing the pitcher of water as the floor was al- 
ready very wet from the leaks in the steeple. 
Molly clutched Judy, trying to keep from scream- 
ing, as something brushed her cheek. 

'^Something touched me! There it is again!’’ 
But the searchlight proved it to be nothing more 
than a great thick rope hanging from the steeple. 

‘'Could it be the one the Jesuit came down?” 
gasped Judy. 


252 MOLLY BKOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 


‘‘Hardly/’ whispered Molly. “Ropes don’t last 
four hundred years. It must be the bell rope.” 

“Of course,” exclaimed Judy, reassured. 
“What a stupid I am! But come on, we must 
examine the floor. Let’s see: she started at the 
altar where she had concealed the boy, and then 
ran towards the door. The footprints should be 
along here where we are standing. Not enough 
wetness here.” Judy turned over the pitcher and 
Molly had to jump to keep her feet out of the 
water. The girls stooped and began examining 
every inch of the flagging. 

“Judy, Judy, look!” cried Molly. “This is a 
footprint. It stays dry while all the floor is wet. 
Look, the little toes and then a space for the 
high arch and then the slender little heel ! Here 
is another and another.” 

Tense with excitement the girls stood up and 
faced each other. There was an extra loud crash 
of thunder and a vivid flasli of lightning. There 
emerged from behind the altar a tall figure in a 
priest’s black cowl, carrying a lantern. 

If there had been any peasants in the field 
passing the old steeple on this night of terrible 
storm, they would have been able to bear witness 
to the truth of the ghost story of the beautiful 


THE GHOST IN THE CHAPEL 


253 


Elizabeth. There was certainly a shriek of ''God 
help me! God help me!'' but it came from the 
over- wrought Judy. Molly reasoned quickly that 
ghosts of Jesuits would not carry kerosene lan- 
terns ; and, besides, that ghosts do not as a rule 
appear to two persons at the same time. 

The man put down his lantern on the altar and 
threw back his hood, disclosing the features of 
Philippe. His lantern had little effect on the 
blackness of the chapel and Molly had turned 
off their searchlight at sight of the apparition. 
Philippe peered into the darkness and spoke with 
a slight agitation: 

'Ts some one in the chapel ? I thought I heard 
a scream, but the thunder was so loud I am not 
sure." 

Judy sat down in the puddle made by the over- 
turned pitcher and gave a dry sob, while Molly 
turned on the searchlight and called out: 

"Nobody but two penitents. Brother Philippe.’’ 

"Well, you gave me quite a turn! I thought 
you were at least the poor murdered Elizabeth,’’ 
and Philippe strode forward and assisted the 
trembling Judy to her feet. "I couldn’t sleep and 
I thought I would come and test the truth of the 
old tale about the footprints. I felt somehow 


254 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

that I had lacked in imagination never to have 
done it before. Certainly you girls have no lack 
of it.’’ 

‘1 wish I did lack a little of the abundance I 
possess,” shuddered Judy. was as certain a 
moment ago that you were the murderous Jesuit 
as I am now that you are Philippe d’Ochte. But 
tell me : how did you get behind the altar without 
our seeing you; and where did you get that 
cloak? It is about the most picturesque thing I 
ever saw.” 

‘'There is an entrance to the old chateau from 
behind the altar; and as for my cloak it is an 
ordinary gens d'arme cape. It does look rather 
monkish. If you admire it, I will present it to 
you. It will make good studio property.” 

The young people had to examine the foot- 
prints more carefully, and of course Philippe 
discovered that they were really raised places in 
the rock, and for that reason showed when the 
floor was wet. 

He conducted the girls back to the main build- 
ing through the narrow corridor that had en- 
trance to the chapel through a small door behind 
the altar. 

“If you only had known of this way, you 


THE GHOST IN THE CHAPEL 


255 


would have been spared a wetting. Both of you 
are drenched. There is a fire in the library. If 
you will come there you can dry off. I am so 
afraid you will catch cold/’ said Philippe. ‘T 
think you girls are a spunky pair. I have never 
known a French girl who would have dared to go 
on the adventure you have to-night.” 

'Well, I fancy we would not have dared to 
go had we really believed in ghosts. As for 
drying ourselves by the library fire I think we had 
much better go off to bed. We might rouse the 
household. Cousin Sally is not to know of our 
escapade, as you say she has a dread of this old 
story getting started up again,” said Molly. 

The two bade their young host good-night and 
crept quietly to their room. 

"My, don’t dry clothes and warm covers feel 
good!” exclaimed Judy, snuggling down in the 
lavender-scented linen sheets. "Molly, I was 
never more frightened in my life than when that 
figure appeared behind the altar ! My not really 
believing in ghosts did not help me one bit. Did 
you ever see anything in the way of a mere man 
quite so excruciatingly handsome as Philippe 
when he threw back his cowl and stood bare- 
headed peering into the darkness?” 


^6 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


''Oh, Judy, what a girl you are! How could 
you take note of all that when you were in a 
little heap on the floor sobbing out your soul?'’ 

"I peeped through my fingers. People don't sob 
with their eyes. What a picture he would make 1" 
and Judy began to draw in the air. "Golden hair 
and beard, with the black peaked hood half off 
and that expression of looking into the future 
that he had when he spoke to ask who was there ! 
'The Young Prophet,' must be the title. He seems 
to have a latent imagination, after all. I believe 
I have done him an injustice. An awful pity 
one of us can’t marry him I Somehow we ought 
to keep him in the family. I bet you I know why 
your Cousin Sally hates to have the ghost talked 
about! I just know she has made a trip to the 
chapel in a spirit of adventure and got good and 
scared." 

But Molly was breathing so quietly that Judy 
realized she was talking to the air, making no 
more impression than her imaginary brush had 
made when she painted the wonderful picture of 
"The Young Prophet." 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


TH^ PRE:SCRIPTI0N. 

Paris was as pleasant to return to as it had 
been to leave. The change and rest in the coun- 
try had put new life in all of the marchioness's 
guests, and they were ready to go back to their 
duties with renewed interest and vigor. 

They found on their arrival, however, inter- 
ruptions to their work more potent than plain 
spring fever : — Professor Edwin Green and Kent 
Brown had reached Paris the day before, 
intending to surprise their friends, and had 
been themselves both surprised and disappointed 
to find the apartment in Rue Brea closed. Miss 
Josephine Williams had come to the fore with in- 
formation and kindly offers of tea and brioche. 
Professor Green was thrown into the depths of 
despair when he learned that the absent ones 
were visiting the d'Ochtes in Normandy, and 
Kent could not conceal his misery when Jo let 
out that Pierce Kinsella was one of the party. 

That young woman, with a feminine instinct 
257 


358 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


that belied her masculine attire, understood the 
two men, and divining that they were both in 
love and jealous, one of Philippe and the other 
of Pierce, exercised the greatest tact and suc- 
ceeded in sending them off to their hotel in a 
much better frame of mind. She did a great deal 
of quiet talking about how boyish Pierce Kinsella 
was, and what a pet to the whole community, 
being years younger than any of the girls. As 
for Philippe she touched lightly on his evident ad- 
miration for Elise O'Brien before her marriage 
and hinted that he seemed equally pleased with 
Frances Andrews now that Elise was off the 
carpet. 

As the young men walked toward their stu- 
dent hotel on the Boulevarde Mont Parnesse, they 
agreed that Jo Bill was a pretty nice sort. They 
had been so impressed by the quality of her tea 
and brioche and her kindly tact in telling them 
exactly what they wanted to hear about their 
lady loves and their feared rivals, that they had 
forgotten to notice her trousers and her tousled 
red hair and spoke only of her honest mouth and 
good teeth, friendly eyes and shapely feet. 

Professor Green had been threatened with a 
nervous breakdown and President Walker had at 


THE PKESCRIPTION 


259 


the eleventh hour been able to procure a substi- 
tute. The wise President understood very well 
that there was a cure to his nervous breakdown, 
but that it had to be taken on the other side of 
the Atlantic; so she was delighted to hasten his 
departure. Edwin had telegraphed Kent of his 
intended sailing, and that young man had joy- 
ously made preparations to join him in New 
York. He had the great pleasure of paying a 
visit of condolence to his Aunt Sarah Clay, who 
had at last lost her suit against the Oil Trust. He 
also had the pleasure of depositing in the safety 
vault a goodly number of bonds for his beloved 
mother, enough to insure a comfortable income 
to her and the certainty that her financial worries 
were over forever. 

‘‘This is what I call an anticlimax,'’ said Edwin 
to Kent the next morning as they lounged on 
the Pont Carrousel. “We got ourselves ready for 
the excitement of surprising the ladies yesterday 
and nothing came off, and now this hanging 
around waiting has taken all the life out of me. 
Miss Williams insisted we could not miss them 
if we guarded the Pont Carrousel, and of course 
this would be the natural way for them to come 


260 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 

from the Gare du Nord; but things don’t seem 
to be happening in the natural way here, lately.” 

Kent looked narrowly at his friend. He did 
look tired and depressed, but the voyage had done 
him good. He was better than he had been at 
Wellington when Dr. McLean had given him a 
thorough going over and, after a consultation 
with his wise partner (Mrs. McLean), had pre- 
scribed an immediate sea trip as the only cure 
for his malady. 

''Oh, buck up, old man, the worst is yet to 
come!” Kent gave him an affectionate push just 
as a taxicab came lumbering on the far end of 
the bridge and he saw a blue scarf floating in the 
breezes, a blue scarf that could belong to no one 
but his dear sister Molly. "What did I tell you ? 
There they are now. Now get ready for the anti- 
climax that you so scorn. I bet it will out-climax 
the climax I” 

Judy was the first to see the young men. "Stop, 
stop !” she called to the chauffeur. 

"Extra charge if I stop. Mademoiselle,” 
warned the man, slowing down his car. 

"Oh, these Frenchies!” wailed the excited girl. 
"They part mother and son for three sous; and 


THE PRESCRIPTION 


261 


— and ” but she did not finish about whom 

else they would part. 

Edwin and Kent crowded in on the front seat 
with the greedy chauffeur, and the happy crowd 
was quickly taken to the Rue Brea. 

As Professor Green gazed over his shoulder 
into the sweet eyes of Molly Brown, he knew that 
the sea trip was just exactly what he needed to 
restore his failing health and that his old friend 
Dr. McLean was a wise physician. 

Molly, on the back seat with her mother and 
Judy, felt very happy. Had she not cause to feel 
so? Was not her beloved brother on the seat 
in front of her after being parted from them for 
months and months? Was not her mother's face 
a picture of maternal joy to be once again near 
her boy? Did not her dear friend Julia Kean 
frankly show her delight at Kent's proximity? 
And last, and Molly tried to make herself think 
it the least reason, was not her friend Professor 
Green rattling along in the taxi with them with 
an expression in his kind eyes as they gazed into 
hers that made her drop her own, fearing that 
hers might have the same telltale look to him 
that his had to her ? 

Kent overpaid the chauffeur in spite of Judy's 


262 MOLLY BEOWN'S OECHAEl) HOME 


protestations and then Professor Green came 
back and gave him an extra pourboire. 

'Xet us squander our hard-earned wealth if we 
want to, Miss Judy,'' begged Kent. ‘When I saw 
that man's round, red face looming up in front 
of Molly and mother and you, it seemed to me 
that he looked like a veritable cupid ; and I should 
like to give him a good big tip just for bringing 
us all together again." 

“All right, but Fate ought to be tipped instead 
of that red-faced, avaricious old Frenchy," 
laughed Judy. 

What a talk they did have when they got 
themselves settled comfortably in the studio, 
which the kindly Jo Williams and Polly Perkins 
had aired and freshened up for their arrival ! 

Kent had to tell all the Kentucky news first, 
as Mrs. Brown and Molly were eager to hear 
every detail concerning the loved ones at home. 
The report was a good one: John and Paul 
were doing well in their chosen professions ; Sue 
was happy as a lark with her Cyrus, who was 
having the “muddy lane" macadamized ; a recent 
letter from Ernest said that he would take his 
holiday in August, provided his mother and Molly 
would have returned to Iventucky by that time; 


THE PRESCKIPTION 


263 


Aunt Clay was in a pleasant, chastened mood, 
seeming rather reconciled to losing her suit ; Aunt 
Mary, the dear old cook, was lonesome and for- 
lorn with ''Ole Miss and Molly Baby done gone 
so fer away. Looks lak I ain’t got the heart to put 
a livin’ thing inter a pie sence they done gone an’ 
lef’ me. I cyarn’t eat fer a thinkin’ what kind er 
messes they is puttin’ in they own innerds ; an I 
cyarn’t sleep fer thinkin’ of the deep waters a 
rollin’ betwixt us.” Mrs. Brown and Molly had 
to wipe their eyes at Kent’s description of the 
dear old darkey. 

"Speaking of innerds,” laughed Kent, "where 
are we to have luncheon ? This constant change 
of climate is giving me a powerful good appetite. 
My only regret in regard to our crossing was 
that we did not come on a German line. The 
French line is good enough except that they have 
only four meals a day, while I am told the Ger- 
man has six.” 

"Oh, you greedy!” said Molly, giving him a 
little extra hug for luck. "How would you like 
to have a spread in the studio? Judy and I will 
gladly show you what we can do. I’ll go forage 
right now.” 

"The very thing!” exclaimed Judy. "You at- 


264 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


tend to the meat and dessert, and Fll hold up the 
salad end. Now, Mrs. Brown, you must rest 
and not do one thing but entertain the gentlemen, 
while Molly and I hustle around.^' 

think the gentlemen had much better go 
with you and Molly and help forage. I will lie 
down and take a real rest while all of you are 
gone,’’ said Mrs. Brown with a whimsical smile. 

As they went out, Kent said to Judy: 'What a 
brick Mumsy is, anyhow!'’ Edwin Green said 
nothing, but he thought : "Mrs. Brown’s tact and 
kindness are never failing.” 

He was eager to see Molly alone, but when they 
were alone he found he had not the courage to 
say to her the words that were in his heart. They 
talked of Wellington and their mutual friends. 
He had news to tell of Richard Blount and Me- 
lissa Hathaway which gave Molly great delight. 

"The mountain would not go to Mohammed, so 
Mohammed is going to the mountain. There is 
an excellent opening for Richard in a Kentucky 
mountain town, Pineville, as a railroad lawyer, 
and he has accepted. Melissa has been appointed 
supervisor of the schools for the district, and 
Miss All friend assures Melissa she can do more 
good to her beloved mountains in this way than 


THE PKESCRIPTION 


265 


by merely teaching, so she has accepted. Miss 
All friend is very happy at this outcome. She has 
seen her own youth go in the uphill work and is 
so glad to know that Melissa is to have a life 
of her own. Melissa and Richard are to be mar- 
ried in June.’’ 

''How splendid !” exclaimed Molly, clasping her 
hands and thinking what a silly girl she had been 
to fancy that Professor Green might care for the 
beautiful mountain girl otherwise than as a 
friend. "I know they will be very happy, and I 
believe Melissa will not let matrimony interfere 
with what she considers her life work.” 

"Dicky Blount declares he will never be jealous 
of such small things as mountains. That is 
rather complimentary to me, as he did me the 
honor to be jealous of me,” laughed the professor. 

"Why, how ridiculous!” and Molly plunged 
into the poultry shop, where the blazing fire ac- 
counted to her companion for her heightened 
color. The proprietor had an extra pullet on the 
spit roasting for a chance customer. He pro- 
nounced it ^'charmante et tendre/' and the hun- 
gry crowd declared he was right. 

The luncheon was perfect. Everyone was 
happy and so much talk was the order of the 


266 MOLLY BEOWN^S OKCHARD HOME 


day that Jo Williams poked her head in to see 
what the row was about, and they made her stay 
to dessert; and then Polly Perkins came to see 
where Jo was, and they invited him to stay to 
coffee. 

'‘You have had a very successful winter, have 
you not?’’ said Edwin Green to Mrs. Brown, 
while Molly and Judy cleared the table and Kent 
went over to Polly’s studio to see the portrait 
of Mrs. Pace. 

“Yes, indeed, most delightful. I have been 
much disappointed in not having Kent with us, 
and now that he has come, I must soon leave 
him here and go back to all the others. They 
need me, especially old Aunt Mary. I could 
never forgive myself if anything should happen 
to the old woman while I am away. She is get- 
ting very feeble. I fancy Kent will do well 
enough without me. He makes friends so easily 
and then dear Judy is to be here for another year 
at least.” 

As Judy leaned over her to arrange the bowl 
of flowers on the table, Mrs. Brown smiled on 
her as though she were already her daughter. 


CHAPTER XIX. 


FONTAINEBI^EAU AND WHAT CAME OE IT. 

Molly’s promise to wait to see the Forest of 
Fontainebleau with him had kept up Edwin 
Green’s spirits through the long winter, and now 
he eagerly planned the excursion to that historic 
spot. They were to take the early morning 
train ; spend the forenoon seeing the palace ; have 
lunch at a restaurant that Edwin remembered of 
old ; then walk or ride through the Forest as the 
ladies should decide ; and spend the night at Bar- 
bizon. 

Everything was coming up to his dreams. 
Even the day was perfect. He was allowed to 
sit by Molly on the train and later on to be by 
her side while the guide showed them through 
the palace and over the beautiful grounds. Mrs. 
Brown and Judy and Kent were inseparable. 

''The poor old boy has been sick and my opinion 
is he needs a little Molly-coddling; so let’s give 
him all the chance in the world,” whispered Kent 
to Judy ; and Judy fell in with the suggestion and 
267 


268 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

hooked her arm in Mrs. Brown's with a 'Whither 
thou goest, I will go" look.^ 

They had luncheon at a restaurant, The Sign 
of the Swan, kept by an old English couple, who 
made a specialty of roast beef and English mus- 
tard. 

"None of the ready mixed French stuff that 
is so mild you can eat it by itself, but the good 
English brand that will really burn," said the 
buxom madame, as she smilingly served great 
slabs of rare beef with generous helpings of 
freshly mixed mustard. 

"It burns all right, all right," exclaimed Kent 
between gulps of water. "It would be invaluable 
for outside application, but I advise all of you 
to go easy on how you place it in the interior. 
The English have stopped wearing visible armor 
but my opinion is they have swallowed it to pro- 
tect their insides from the onslaught of their own 
mustard." 

"I think it is delicious," said Molly. 

"So do I," echoed Edwin. "I never tasted 
better." 

Kent gave the professor a quizzical glance and 
then flicked his eyelid at Judy. The young man 
was very far gone, he thought, if he could swal- 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


269 


low that mustard and make out he enjoyed it, 
since he, Kent, happened to know that Edwin 
Green abhorred all highly seasoned food. But 
forsooth, if Molly liked mustard he would like 
mustard, too. 

Molly and Judy had expressed their desire to 
walk through the Forest to Barbizon but Mrs. 
Brown was to take the diligence, as it was rather 
too long a walk for her to attempt. Judy sud- 
denly decided that she was tired and would ride 
with Mrs. Brown, and Kent declared that he 
needed assistance to carry the quantity of roast 
beef he had consumed at The Sign of the Swan, 
and was delighted to be spared the walk of sev- 
eral miles. 

'T tell you, I almost sang my 'Swan Song’ when 
I got that first mouthful of mustard, and it would 
have been to the tune of Tt’s a hot time in the old 
town to-night.’ If you and the professor are 
going to walk, Molly, you had better start now 
and not wait for the diligence to be off.” 

So Molly and Edwin did start on the walk 
that the young man had been looking forward to 
for so many months. The Forest of Fontaine- 
bleau is a wonderful spot and a fitting place for 
a young man to use as the setting for his day 


270 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 

dreams. Here he was actually doing the thing he 
had been dreaming of, only it was more delight- 
ful than he had let himself think it could be. 
Molly was all loveliness and sweetness. He 
blessed the miles that made it necessary for Mrs. 
Brown to ride; he blessed the unusual fatigue 
that had overtaken Judy ; and above all, he blessed 
the slabs of rare roast beef that had put Kent 
out of the running. So blind was he to every- 
thing but Molly, the color of her eyes and hair, 
the curve of her cheek and sweetness of her 
mouth, that he had not seen that Kent and Judy 
had deliberately given up the walk for his sake. 
Julia Kean did not know what ‘‘tired’' meant, 
and as for Kent, he was a young man of un- 
limited capacity. 

They soon left the broad avenue and struck 
into one of the by-paths going in the direction 
of Barbizon. Edwin had a map of the Forest on 
which every path was indicated, and with the 
help of the many finger-posts, they were able to 
locate themselves from time to time. 

“Is it as beautiful as you thought it would be, 
Miss Molly?” 

“Oh, more beautiful ! I never have seen such 
trees. It is so wonderful, too, to think that there 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


271 


are no snakes. They say they have not seen a 
snake in these parts for over fifty years. When 
I am in the woods, I am always a little bit uneasy 
about snakes.’’ 

"^Since there are no snakes, we might sit down 
on this moss-covered rock and rest.” 

There was more to Edwin’s dream than simply 
walking through the woods with Molly; and he 
felt that no more suitable place could be found 
than this sylvan spot where she could be seated 
like a queen on a throne while he poured out as- 
surances of his life-long allegiance, if she would 
but admit him as a subject. 

‘'Oh, Miss Molly! Molly, my darling, I am 
dumb with love of you. I want to tell you how 
much I love you; how long I have loved you. 
Can you love me just a little?” 

And Molly raised her frank blue eyes to his 
appealing brown ones and answered : “No, I can’t 
love you' just a little, but I have to love you a 
whole lot.” 

His day dream was indeed coming true : alone 
with Molly Brown in the great, deep, silent forest, 
his love spoken at last and Molly actually con- 
fessing that she cared for him. That eminent 
instructor of English at Wellington College 


272 MOLLY BEOWN^S OKCHARD HOME 


found when the time came to express himself that 
all his knowledge of words was as naught, and 
the only English he had at his command was : ‘'I 
love you, do you love me and “I have loved you 
since the day in your Freshman year when you 
got locked in the corridor. How long have you 
loved me, if you do really love me?'^ 

They finally resumed their walk, but now they 
went hand in hand. How much there was to 
talk about, how many things to explain! 

‘'And will you be willing to spend the sum- 
mers in your orchard home with me ? I have al- 
ways called it ‘Molly's Orchard Home' in my 
mind." 

“I can think of no place in the world where Fd 
rather spend the summers. Would I not be near 
all of my people? I am so glad you asked my ad- 
vice about the bungalow ! Now the doors open the 
way I want them to ; and the cellar has an outside 
entrance ; and the guest chamber has those extra 
inches on it, besides the nice big closet; and the 
attic steps are big enough to get a trunk up. 
Did you really and truly think it was going to 
be my home when you were planning it?" 

“I could only hope and hope and plan and 
dream. For almost six years I have known that 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


273 


it was you or nobody for me. Ever since you 
came to Wellington, a slip of a girl, it has been 
all I could do to keep from claiming you. You 
were too young. I knew it would not be fair to 
try to tie you to an old dry-as-dust like me until 
you had seen the world a little. But oh, how hard 
it has been not to speak out all that was in my 
heart ! And when I thought I had lost you, first 
to Jimmy Lufton, then to your cousin, Philippe 
d’Ochte, life was very bitter, and I looked for- 
ward to years of misery and longing.’’ 

’Way down in my heart of hearts,” confessed 
Molly, ‘U knew that you cared, and the knowledge 
of it kept me from thinking seriously of any 
other man. It was awfully conceited of me to 
feel that way when you have never given me 
any real reason for it. At least, you had never 
written or spoken your love; but the language 
that is neither written nor spoken is understood 
by the heart, and my heart told me you loved 
me when my intelligence would have me under- 
stand that you did not.” 

^'Bless your sweet heart for understanding me 
and speaking a good word for me! I wish my 
heart could have done as much for me. I could 
not see how you could care for me, and still I 


274 MOLLY BKOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


hoped and prayed. And now what is to prevent 
our being married right now and spending our 
honeymoon abroad?’’ 

“Well, it seems to me that a young man who 
could possess his soul in patience for six years 
to find out his fate, might wait a while longer 
now that he knows his answer,” teased Molly. 

“But all my patience is gone, used up, worn 
out ! I want you all the time to make up for this 
terrible nightmare of a winter that I have passed 
through. What is to prevent our getting mar- 
ried, if you really and truly care for me? Oh, 
Molly, be good to me ! I could not stand it if the 
ocean separated us again!” 

And Molly was good to this extent; she said: 
“Let’s see what mother says about it.” 

When the pair of happy lovers reached Barbi- 
zon, they broke the news of their engagement to 
their friends, who had the tact to pretend to be 
astonished. Mrs. Brown was in a measure re- 
lieved that Molly returned the affections of the 
young professor. She liked him very much and 
fully approved of him as a son-in-law. She felt 
sure that he would take the best possible care of 
her darling daughter. There had been times 
when she had felt a little afraid that her advice 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


275 


to Edwin Green not to speak to Molly of his love 
until the girl had matured somewhat, was per- 
haps a mistake. But now, convinced that all 
was well, Mrs. Brown, as impulsive as ever, 
agreed that there was no reason to delay their 
marriage. 

The next few days were filled with unmixed 
charm and delight. Barbizon was intensely in- 
teresting, having been the home of Jean Frangois 
Millet. Here he lived, painted and died, the great 
peasant painter. The fields around the village 
were the scenes for the Gleaners, the Angelus, 
the Man with the Hoe. 

The Forest, which touched the outskirts of the 
village, had furnished motifs for Diaz, Rousseau 
and Daubigny, and Judy was in a state of the 
greatest enthusiasm and excitement trying to spy 
out the exact spots where those masters of land- 
scape had painted their pictures. Kent was de- 
lighted to follow in her footsteps and, as he ex- 
pressed it, ''sit at the feet of learning.’^ He had 
seen but few good pictures, but he had an un- 
erring taste in the matter of art and was able 
to understand Judy’s ravings. 

Molly and Edwin seemed to be floating above 
the earth. They touched ground occasionally to 


276 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

eat the very good food that the madame at Mai- 
son Chevillon served them or to pass the time of 
day with the other members of the party. 

'Xook at those two infatuated lovers, Mother,” 
said Kent. ''They look as though they had left 
this mundane sphere for good and all. I believe 
they talk in blank verse with occasional lapses 
into rhyme. 

" 'What kind er slippers do the angels wear ? 
Chillun, chillun, chillun, won^t yer foller me ? 

Don’ wear none fer they tred on air, 

Hally, Hally, Hally, Hallyloodja!’ ” 

"Nonsense, Kent, don’t tease them,” implored 
Mrs. Brown. 

But strange to say, Molly did not mind the 
teasing she was forced to take from her brother, 
although Judy called him "Mr. Brown” in the 
most formal manner whenever he yielded to the 
temptation to tease her beloved Molly. 

"I don’t mind your calling me 'Mr. Brown’ 
now that none of my brothers are here to answer 
to your endearments,” laughed Kent. "I rather 
like it, in fact. It adds a kind of dignity to me.” 

They could not play around the Forest of 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


277 


Fontainebleau forever, much as they would have 
liked to. They went back to Paris a very con- 
tented, happy party: Mrs. Brown happy that her 
judgment had been correct in regard to her 
daughter’s affairs; Kent and Judy happy to be 
in each other’s society and knowing they were 
to have much of their chosen work ahead of 
them ; Kent feeling almost certain that when his 
work was accomplished the reward awaited him, 
that Judy cared for him and if he could make 
good, would marry him; Professor Green and 
Molly in a seventh heaven of bliss. 

Cousin Sally was immediately taken into their 
confidence. The news of the engagement was 
broken to her by Molly herself. 

''Oh, what a sly-boots you were!” exclaimed 
the marchioness. "Philippe was right about your 
knowing too much about how persons ought to 
love not to be in love yourself. Well, my dear, 
I know you will be happy, and as for that Green 
— I hardly know how to say how happy he should 
be. He is not one-half so good looking as my 
boy, but never mind, child, I know just how 
clever and good and intelligent he is. He is 
much more suitable for you. He has the imagina- 
tion that Philippe lacks. Tut — tut, I know per- 


278 MOLLY BKOWN^S OKCHARD HOME 


fectly well where my dear son falls short. There 
is no poetry in his make up. His father and I 
have often wondered at it. He looks so poetical 
and is all prose.’' 

The marchioness took arrangements for the 
wedding into her own hands. Getting married in 
Paris if you happen to be foreigners, is no easy 
matter. There is enough red tape connected with 
it to reach all the way across the Atlantic; but 
Sally Bolling d’Ochte was quite equal to cope 
with it. It took several weeks and much sign- 
ing and countersigning. Birth certificates had to 
be obtained from Kentucky as well as baptismal 
certificates for Molly. The law did not seem to 
be so strict concerning the man. 

‘Tt does not seem fair,” declared Kent. ‘'These 
Frenchies will let a man get married without any 
proof of his being born; but a woman, forsooth, 
must first prove she is born and that she has 
been christened before she is allowed to enter into 
the holy state of matrimony.” 

All the papers were finally obtained, however, 
and Molly and her professor were married very 
quietly at the Protestant Episcopal Church, with 
no one present but the near friends and relatives. 


FONTAINEBLEAU 


279 


It all went as merry as a marriage bell should, 
but does not always go. No one wept but Polly 
Perkins ; but Jo declared he always was a ‘'slobber 
baby.’' 

Molly naturally was married in blue, her own 
blue. The dressmaker almost cried when she 
was told that it was a wedding dress she was 
making, because it was not to be of white. 

“Ah, the blonde bride is so wonderful and so 
rare! I could create for Mademoiselle a dress 
that would be the talk of Paris. With that hair 
and such fairness of complexion — well, never 
mind, I will still make her as beautiful as the 
dawn.” And so she did. 

After the ceremony, a wedding breakfast fol- 
lowed at the home of the good Cousin Sally, 
who felt like weeping but refrained for fear of 
casting a cloud on Molly’s day ; but it was noticed 
that she was especially attentive and kind to poor 
emotional Polly, showing that she appreciated his 
feelings and longed to show hers. 

Molly and Edwin went on their wedding trip 
to — But is it kind to follow them? Let them 
have their solitude a deux. They are well able to 
take care of each other without our assistance. 

They joined Mrs. Brown in a month and went 


280 MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 


back to Kentucky with her, leaving Judy and 
Kent to continue their art studies in Paris. 

Judy was terribly afraid that she would have to 
go back under Mrs. Pace’s wing when the Browns 
left her, but the all-capable Marchioness d’Ochte 
got her a room at the American Girls’ Club where 
she could be as free as she wished with the ap- 
pearance of being well chaperoned. As for Kent 
he struck up quite a friendship with Pierce Kin- 
sella, whom he had once so feared as a rival, and 
the two young men decided to share a studio, les- 
sening the expense for both and heightening their 
pleasure. 


CHAPTER XX. 


MORE IvETTERS. 

From Mrs. Edwin Green to Miss Nance Oldham. 
My dearest Nance: 

Oh, Nance, Pm so happy ! I wonder if any two 
people were ever so happy as Edwin and I. Am 
I not glib with my ‘"Edwin’’ ? I found it rather 
hard at first to keep from calling him Professor 
Green, but it seemed to mean so much to him that 
I have at last broken myself of the habit. 

I longed for you on the day of the wedding. 
It did not seem right for me to take such a step 
without my darling Nance to help me. I was 
married in a traveling suit. I really believe I 
could not have been married in a white dress and 
veil unless you had been there to put on my veil. 

We are having a wonderful trip, and (please 
don’t laugh at me), but do you know it is a real 
privilege to travel with a man like Edwin? He 
knows so many things without being the least bit 

teachy. Mother says you are never conscious of 
281 


282 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


the pedagogue in Edwin. That is really so, whicH 
I think is remarkable, considering the many per- 
sons he has to teach. 

First we went to Scotland. Nothing in France 
thrilled me as did the lakes of Scotland. How 
thankful I am that, as a child, I did not have 
access to very many books, only the classics, and 
I had to read the Waverley Novels or nothing. 
Scotland meant a great deal more to me because 
of my having read Scott. Edwin says he finds 
about one out of ten of the young persons of the 
day know their Dickens and their Scott. 

Edinburgh is so interesting that already Edwin 
and I are planning to revisit it in his next Sabbati- 
cal year. That is a long way off but we are so 
happy those seven years will pass quickly, I know. 
I almost fell over the ramparts of Edinburgh 
Castle trying to see the exact spot where Robert 
Louis Stevenson’s hero, St. Ives, went down on 
the rope to the rocks below. As I craned my 
neck, Edwin whispered hoarsely in my ear : 
“Past yin o’cloak, and a dark, haary moarnin.” 

Edwin says I take fiction much more seriously 
than I do history. He does, too, unless the his- 
tory happens to be Mary Queen of Scots or some- 
thing that by rights should have been fiction. 


MOKE LETTERS 


283 


Greyfriars Bobby, for instance, is a true tale but 
affects us both as though it were fiction. We 
gave a whole afternoon to that dear little doggy, 
following in his footsteps as nearly as we could 
through the streets of Edinburgh, and out into 
the country by the road he took to the farm, and 
then back to Greyfriars Churchyard where the 
old shepherd, his master, was buried. 

Of course we did the Burns country thor- 
oughly. Edwin seemed as at home there as I am 
in the beech woods at Chatsworth. Burns has 
never been one of my poets, but he is now. I 
have adopted him for life since I realize what he 
means to Edwin. 

We are in London now and could spend a year 
here and not see all we want to see. We play a 
splendid game which maybe you will think is silly, 
but you don't know how much fun it is. We pre- 
tend for a whole day to be some characters in 
fiction, Dickens, Thackeray, Barrie, anyone we 
happen to think of, and then we do the things 
those persons might have done. For instance, 
when we were slumming, I was the Marchioness 
and Edwin was Dick Swiveller. That was per- 
haps the best day of all. When we went down to 
the Thames embankment, Edwin suddenly turned 


284 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


into Rogue Riderhood and I was Lizzie Hexam. 

Edwin did not think much of me as Becky 
Sharp when we went to the Opera nor did I think 
his Rawdon Crawley very convincing. His Peter 
Pan was splendid the afternoon we spent in Ken- 
sington Gardens, and he thought my Wendy was 
so perfect he tried to make me give him a ‘'thim- 
ble'’ right there before all the nurse maids. 

We are going home in a few days now. We 
are to meet Mother at Liverpool and sail from 
there. I do wish Mother could have done the 
things we have done. She would have enjoyed it 
so much. She laughed until she cried when I pro- 
posed her going with us. She said she loved 
Edwin too much and felt that he loved her too 
much to put his affection to such a test. 

One of the very best things about being Mrs. 
Edwin Green is that Mother so highly approves 
of Edwin. 

In a few weeks now we will be settled in our 
little Orchard Home. I hate to leave London but 
I long for the little home. I am a born home- 
maker and I am eager to get to housekeeping 
in the bungalow. 

Edwin expects to be very busy working on a 
text-book on American Literature that he feels 


MORE LETTERS 


285 


there is a need of. He does not have to go back 
to Wellington until January and that will give 
us time for lots of things in Kentucky. 

When we get to Wellington, you are the first 
person we want to have visit us, and I want to 
engage you right now. 

What you tell me of Andy McLean’s success at 
Harvard does not astonish me. I was sure he 
would do well. I shall not be astonished either 
when you tell me some other news about Andy. 
Come on now, Nance, and ’fess up. 

Good-bye. — Edwin sends his kindest regards to 
you and says he, too, is counting on that visit 
from you in January. 

Yours always, 

Moi,i,y. 

5|s :)c * Hi * 

Mrs. Sarah Carmichael Clay to Mrs. Mildred 
Carmichael Brown. 

Dear Milly : 

For a woman who is noted through the whole 
County as being the least practical person in the 
world, the most gullible and credulous, you cer- 
tainly seem to come out at the big end of the horn. 


286 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


You have managed to marry off your daugh- 
ters very young, though in my opinion they are 
none of them beauties. Your sons seem to be able 
to support themselves. You have contrived to 
sell your birthright to an oil trust and to lift the 
mortgage on Chats worth. Your servants stay 
with you until they die on your hands ; and your 
friends vie with each other in rendering service 
to you. 

I can’t understand it. You must be deeper than 
shows on the surface. Anyhow, I take off my 
hat to you as being much more of a personage 
than I ever gave you credit for. 

I am going to give Molly, for a wedding pres- 
ent, the portrait of our grandmother by Jouett. 
It is a valuable painting, so I am told, but I have 
had it in the attic for years as I could not bear 
the sight of it. You will remember it was the 
image of that impertinent Sally Bolling, who 
seemed to have the faculty of making me appear 
ridiculous. I never could abide her and hardly 
wanted to have her picture in my drawing room. 
I always lost sight of the fact that it was really 
our grandmother. I am afraid Molly is going to 
look like it, too. 

It is high time you were coming home. Now 


MORE LETTERS 


28 r 


that you have managed to marry Molly off, I 
should think you would have some feeling for 
me. My health is very poor, and certainly your 
duty is to look after me some and not give all of 
your time to your children. What with the law- 
suit that I have been forced into and the constant 
changing of house-servants, I am in a very nerv- 
ous condition. 

Affectionately your sister, 

Sarah Carmichaki. Ci,ay. 

;|£ :je Hi * * 

From Professor Edwin Green to Dr. McLean 
at Wellington. 

My dear Doctor : 

I have come to the conclusion that you can take 
a place by the side of Dr. Weir Mitchell as one 
of the greatest nerve specialists of this age or 
any age. I am taking your prescription in large 
doses: deep full breaths of happiness and great 
brimming bowls of it. I am feeling fine and my 
wife says I am getting fat. 

We have had a splendid trip. I have been over 
the same ground before, but it all seems new and 
wonderful to me. My wife’s knowledge of your 


288 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


beloved Scotland put me to shame. She declares 
she got it all from Walter Scott and Robert Louis 
Stevenson and never studied a history of the 
country in her life. 

My wife joins me in love to you and Mrs. Mc- 
Lean. She says that one of her chief pleasures is 
looking forward to having Mrs. McLean for a 
neighbor the rest of her life. 

We will be back in Wellington after Christmas. 
We are now going to my wife's native state, Ken- 
tucky, where I expect to finish the text-book on 
American Literature that I have been pretending 
to work on for some time. My wife's presence 
will serve as inspiration to me and I hope to get 
ahead with it now. 

Very sincerely, 

Edwin Gr^^n. 


P. S. — My wife, using a wife's prerogative, 
has read this over my shoulder and declares that 
I may be a teacher of English, but as a writer of 
it I am a failure. She says she can count about 
a dozen ' Vives" in this little letter, which is very 
bad writing. But can you blame me? E. G. 


MORE LETTERS 


289 


Prom Caroline Jackson to Mrs. Brown. 

Dear Miss Milly : 

I takes my pen in hand tow enform you that 
most of us is enjawen pore heahh and hopes it 
finds you the same. This letter is writ for Aunt 
Mary Morten although the paper and awnvelop 
is mine, the same what Miss Molly sent me for 
Christmus come two yers next time. Aunt 
Mary wisht me tow say that she is rejicing that 
her Molly Baby done catch sech a fine man as 
her teacher pears tow be and she is praying that 
she will be spared tow greet them both on this 
side of the ribber. 

We have done cleaned up Chatswuth tel you 
kin see yore face in mos any place you is enclined 
tow look. Lewis has white washed evything tel 
it minds me of icecreamcandyandpopcorn. Lewis 
has also done put in and tended the garden same 
as ifn you wus here. The bungleboo in the aw- 
chard is all finished and vines and flowrs growin 
on it same as ef it done been there fer yers. 

Aunt Mary’s grand darter Kizzie lows she is 
goin tow cook fer Miss Molly. All I kin say is 
Gawd hep litle Miss Molly, cause that there Kiz- 


290 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


zie is sho slow tow move and proudified (this las 
from me and not Aunt Mary). 

Miss Sarah Clay is done had twelve cooks sence 
Christmus and I cyarnt count as high as the house 
girls run up tow. Miss Sarah is lookin right 
peaked and not near so buxo as formally. All 
of us ladies and gentlemen of African scent is 
rejicing that you will soon go down into the deep 
waters and return again once more to Kaintucky. 
No more at present. Plese excuse blots and a bad 
pen. Lewis wushes me tow add that he done 
furnished the stamp fer this here pistle. 

Aunt Mary lows she aint long fer this here 
world but I knows she is still got the strenth 
tow make other colord folks work. 

With umblest respecks, 

CaroIvIne: Jackson. 

He ^ 

From Miss Julia Kean to Mrs. Edwin Green. 
Molly Darling: 

All day I sing: ‘WhaPs this dark world to 
me? Molly's not here." When the wedding 
breakfast was over and you and your Edwin were 
really gone, we all of us collapsed like busted bal- 
loons. Polly Perkins was cheerful beside the rest 


MORE LETTERS 


291 


of us. He says he always cries at weddings. I 
believe he is thinking of Josephine Williams and 
weeps because he knows she never will marry 
him. I don’t blame Jo, but I do feel sorry for 
Polly. 

Your Mother and I are plunged into getting the 
Bents’ studio in order for them. We are deter- 
mined that they shall find it as shining as they 
left it. What a place it has been for us and how 
we have enjoyed it ! 

The d’Ochtes will soon go back to Normandy. 
They have asked Kent and me to visit them dur- 
ing the summer. Won’t that be grand? 

I have seen Frances Andrews several times. I 
never did see any one improve as she has. I 
think it is your influence but I know you will say 
it is the angle at which I am looking at her. I 
believe Philippe d’Ochte is really becoming very 
much interested in her. I wonder what Cousin 
Sally will think. I fancy she will think poor 
Frances a far cry from her choice for her son, 
namely : our own Molly. I still think it is a pity 
we can’t keep La Roche Craie in the family, but 
I see no way to do it. 

Pierce Kinsella is painting like mad on a por- 


292 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


trait of your mother. He says he has been crazy 
to paint her from the moment he laid eyes on her 
on the steamer. She says she rather likes posing 
because it means she can sit still and think. We 
have been in such a whirl that it might be some 
comfort to sit still, but I fancy Fd get enough of 
it in a half hour sitting. 

Pierce demands only one thing of Mrs. Brown 
and that is that she thinks about you. He de- 
clares her expression is different. 

Speaking of parents, my own are leaving Tur- 
key to-day. Why I should keep it to the end of 
my letter, I don’t know. I am wild with delight. 
It seems years since I saw them and I can hardly 
wait. I wish they could have got here for the 
wedding. Bobby always whoops things up so. 

Give my best love to that most fortunate man 
alive ; and tell him that matrimony does not mean 
eternal monopilization. Write to me soon at the 
American Girls’ Club. They say it is fine and 
homelike there, but it will surely be some come- 
down after Rue Brea. 

Your ever devoted, 

Judy. 


MOEE LETTEES 


293 


Jimmy Lufton to Molly. 

Press Club, New York. 

My dear Mrs. Green : 

Ah me! I have swallowed the bitter pill and 
now I am gasping for breath. I mean I have 
actually called you Mrs, Green. I did not know 
I was man enough to do it. One never can tell 
what he can do until put to the test. Anyhow, I 
want to congratulate both you and the Professor 
with all my heart. If I have to call you Mrs. 
Anything I believe Pd rather it would be Mrs. 
Green. Did you ever hear this saying? 

‘'Change the name and not the letter. 
Change for worse and not for better. 
Change the name and colour, to©, 

Change for good and never rue.’' 

I am sure you will “never rue” and will be as 
happy as you deserve, which is saying a great 
deal. With kindest regards to your husband (I 
feel myself to be a giant among men now, actu- 
ally to have spoken of the Prof, as your hus- 
band!) and hoping I shall be allowed the pleas- 


294 MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

ure of seeing you when you pass through New 
York on the way to your home in Kentucky, 

I am very sincerely your friend, 

Jimmy Lufton. 

From Miss Josephine Williams to Mrs. Edwin 
Green. 

Rue Brea, Paris. 
My dear Molly Brown Green : 

The Bents are good friends of mine, but I 
must say Fll be sorry to see them back in their 
studio, for it will mean the departure of your 
wonderful mother. I truly think she has done 
real social settlement work in this quarter of 
Paris. Her influence is felt wherever she goes. 
For instance, I cite myself as an example. I 
wear trousers still, but only when I am actually 
at work, and I find skirts not so bad after all. 
As for Polly Perkins, he has actually acquired 
backbone enough to propose to me. I am sure 
your mother was at the bottom of it. 

The winter bids fair to be a hard one for 
American artists in Paris, so I have decided that 
it would be wise to economize in rent. There- 
fore, I have consented to share a studio with 


MOKE LETTERS 


295 


Polly. Your mother is at the bottom of this 
move, too. Of course we have got to live, and 
two can live together more cheaply than they can 
separately. Economy of rent and fuel and light 
is to be considered, to say nothing of the fact 
that it is an impossibility to make one cup of tea 
or coffee. I always have a lot left in the pot 
and Polly might just as well have it as not. 
All these reasons to explain why I have said 
^‘Yes”! 

Mrs. Pace bought her own portrait and has 
been the means of another order for poor Polly. 
She has also arranged to have him give some 
talks at her pension on the new movement in 
Art. Polly is quite spunked up and has actually 
had his hair cut. 

The portrait of Mrs. Pace is on the whole 
rather interesting. I have to confess that the 
Cubist way of looking at her was the only way 
to do her justice. I think Polly was rather re- 
markable to see the possibilities in her. 

We miss you more than I can tell you. Rue 
Brea seemed very lonesome at first and it took 
us several days to get back in our ruts. 

I see a lot of your splendid young brother. I 
think he has been a good influence for Polly, 


296 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


too. He seemed to take Polly seriously and that 
always does a fellow good. 

Pierce Kinsella is doing a wonderful portrait 
of your mother. It will be a sure Salon success 
and I bet anything will get a Mention. It has 
some of the qualities of Whistler’s Mother. I 
think Pierce is one of the coming giants. 

As you know by experience how difficult it is 
for foreigners to be married in Paris, I need 
not tell you of the trouble we are having to get 
all of my certificates from California. Polly 
and I can’t begin our economies for several 
weeks yet. I should not be astonished if by that 
time my hair will be long enough to tuck up. 
Another one of your mother’s touches — I’m let- 
ting it grow. Regards to the man, most blessed 
on earth. 

Your friend, 

Jo BlI,!,. 


CHAPTER XXL 

MOI.I,Y brown's orchard HOM^. 

'"Ter think er my Molly Baby back here in 
Kaintucky, a wedded wife with a live husband er 
her own! Who'd a thought it? It seems jes' a 
spell sence she were so teency she had to dim' 
on a soap box to reach up ter de dough tray ter 
pinch off a lil piece er yeas' dough ter make her 
play rolls wif, so. she an' that there Kent could 
have a party in de ole apple tree they called ther 
carstle. An' now de carstle done blowed down 
an' in a twinklin' of de eye, most fo' dis ole nigger 
could tun 'round, here is a sho nuf house whar de 
carstle stood an' my lil baby chile is mistress here 
wif a dough tray an' bis'it board er her own, an' 
now," and here Aunt Mary paused to give one of 
her inimitable chuckles, ‘‘she don' have ter stretch 
up none ter reach de table but has to ben' over 
right smart in de tother d'rection." 

“Don't you think our bungalow is lovely?" 
asked Molly, who looked very pretty in her cap 
and apron as she bent over her own biscuit board 
297 


298 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


cutting out tiny biscuit, the kind that Edwin liked 
best, ready to bake for breakfast. 

''Yes, chile, it is a fittin’ home for the likes of 
you; but fer the land's sake, don' call it no sich 
a name as that there ! It makes me think er 
hants. It soun's too like bugger-boo ter me. Jes' 
call it house or home, but not dat scarey name 
what you and yo' teacher roll out so keerless 
like." 

"All right. Aunt Mary, if you don't like bunga- 
low, 'my teacher' and I will stop calling it that." 

Molly popped the biscuit into the oven, put the 
sliced bacon on the griddle, tested her coffee to 
see if it had percolated sufficiently, got the butter 
and cream out of the refrigerator, cracked ice to 
put in the cantaloupe, and made a pitcher of ice 
water before it was time to turn the bacon. 

"Sakes alive, chile, how you kin tun aroun'! 
That there Ca'line would a bin a hour doin' what 
you done 'complished in a few minutes." 

Just then Professor Green came into the 
kitchen, hunting Molly, whom he could not let out 
of his sight for very long. 

"Well, Aunt Mary, I am so glad to see you,'^ 
and he shook hands with the old woman. "My 
wife tells me that you are to spend the day with 


MOLLY BEOWN’S ORCHAED HOME 299 


US, also that your granddaughter, Kizzie, is com- 
ing to cook for us. Just look at my wife. Aunt 
Mary, isn’t she the most beautiful wife in all the 
world?” 

He proceeded to embrace Molly, dish towel, 
coffee pot and all. Molly put the coffee pot down 
by the ice water, dropped the dish towel into the 
wood box and allowed herself to be kissed, laugh- 
ing gayly at the old darkey’s expression of amuse- 
ment. 

'‘Oh, yes, wife, wife, wife! That’s all one er 
these here green husbands kin say. But I see 
right here ef I comp’ny done come to spen’ de 
day. I’d bes’ put on a ap’on and git ter wuck. De 
bac’n is ready ter burn up and I ’low that there 
pan er baby bis’it is done to a turn. De coffee pot 
done het up de ice water and de ice water done 
took the ’roma from de coffee. Here I was a 
passin’ compliments on Miss Molly ’bout her 
swif’ness, and she actin’ jes lak Ca’line! De 
kitchen ain’t no place fer spoons, ’less they is i’on 
spoons to stir up de batter wif. Go ’long an’ sit 
down in yo’ cheers. I’ll bring in the victuals.” 

Aunt Mary was very strict with the other ser- 
vants and would have reprimanded any of them 
severely for venturing a remark "while de white 


300 MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 


folks was eatin’/’ but she followed Molly and 
Edwin to the screened porch where the table was 
laid, and while they ate the very good breakfast 
which, thanks to her, had not burned up, the old 
woman entertained them with her keen observa- 
tions. 

knowed you’d be pleased wif de Jonases 
gourd I done planted hin’ de kitchen on that arbor 
what Mr. Kent called by some outlandish name 
lak perg’low. I say I planted de gourd, which 
ain’t ter say the wholesome truf. Yer see, gourds 
mus’ be planted by a foolish ’ooman or a lazy, no- 
’count man ef you want ’em to grow fas’. I sho 
did want that there vine to kiver de arbor befo’ 
you and yo’ teacher got here, so I got Ca’line, who 
is ’thout doubt the foolishest virgin I ever seed, 
to plant on one side and that low down, lazy 
Buck Jasper to tend to tother, and you kin see fer 
yo’self they’s meetin’ overhead.” 

‘'The vine has certainly grown very rapidly,” 
laughed the professor. ‘T have never heard be- 
fore what were the requisites for a flourishing 
gourd.” 

“Well, I ain’t a-sayin’ that part of its cornin’ 
on so well ain’t due to the haid work that old 
Mary Morton put on it. I bossed them free nig- 


MOLLY BKOWN^S ORCHARD HOME 301 


gers till they done disremembered they was Eman- 
cipated/’ 

'What would you say, Aunt Mary, if Kent 
should bring a wife back to Chatsworth?” asked 
Molly. 

'Well, if it is that there Judy gal, Fd say, 
'Glory be !’ She’s sho jes’ lak our own folks, if 
she do say her ma and pa ain’t never owned 
they own home, but always been renters. That 
don’ sound zactly lak quality, but since the war, 
that ain’t sich a sho sign as it uster be. You see 
plenty er po’ white trash now a-ownin’ fine homes 
and de quality rentin’ nothin’ mo’ than cabins.” 

"Well, Judy is the gal I mean. Aunt Mary, and 
I fancy they will come to live with Mother at 
Chatsworth.” 

"Don’ it beat all how Miss Milly’s daughters 
is marryin’ out and her sons a-marryin’ in? I 
done heard Miss Milly say hunderds er times that 
she’d ’low her daughters to marry in but her sons 
must marry out, as daughters-in-law is heaps mo’ 
ticklish to git ’long wif than sons-in-law. Here 
her three daughters is a marryin’ an’ going to all 
kin’s er outlan’ish places leavin’ they ma an’ they 
home; an’ now the boys is thinkin’ bout takin’ 
unto theyselves wives, an’ one an’ all say they 


302 MOLLY BKOWN^S OKCHARD HOME 


can’t sleep nowheres but at Chatsworth, an’ they 
mus’ bring they wives back home to keep comp’ny 
wif yo^ ma! Mr. Paul’s cou’tin’ ’round, but he 
manages to git stuck on too many gals at oncet 
and makes it hard to settle hisself. I done no- 
ticed, howsomever, ’bout that kinder whimsified 
lover, when he do settle down, he makes the bes’ 
husband er all. Men folks is gotter have they 
fling, and they bes’ have it ’fo’ matrimony than 
durin’ it. 

'‘Dr. John was right hard hit wif that Miss 
Hunt what was a-visiting yo’ Aunt Clay ’til he 
seed her wif her hair all stringy an’ out er curl 
that time you all went on the night picnic and 
the creek riz so and mos’ drownded the passel of 
you. He ain’t never paid no ’tention to her since ; 
but they do tell me that pretty, rosy-cheeked 
young lady he drove out here las’ week from 
Lou’ville is liable to be Mrs. Dr. John. What’s 
mo,’ Ca’line tells me she is a trained nurse. She 
certainly do look lak a lady and I tuck notice 
she eat lak a lady, ef she does hire herself out 
in service. Pears lak to me that the mo’ things 
the niggers thinks theyselves too good to do, the 
mo’ things the white folks decide they ain’t too 
good ter do fer theyselves.” 


MOLLY BROWNES ORCHARD HOME 303 


‘‘Why, Aunt Mary, of course Miss Graves is a 
lady. She belongs to one of the very best families 
and is very well educated and certainly charm- 
ing and sweet. John will be lucky, indeed, if he 
can persuade her to have him.’^ 

“Well, honey chile, ef you say so, ’tis so. 'Cose 
in days gone by a nuss was a nuss, cep' some was 
good and some was bad, but now it seems some 
is ladies an' some ain't." 

“Here comes Mother," exclaimed Edwin, 
springing from his seat to go meet his mother-in- 
law, who was opening the neat little green gate 
that connected the Chatsworth gardens with the 
old orchard where he had built his nest. 

“What lazy children, just having breakfast! I 
feel as though I had eaten mine ages ago, and 
yours looks so good, I believe I'll have some 
more, — ^just a cup of coffee and a biscuit. Aunt 
Mary, you have made a better cook of your Molly 
Baby than you have of Caroline. I never have 
such biscuit as these except when you come to 
spend the day." 

Aunt Mary had become so feeble that she was 
not able to do steady work. She lived in a com- 
fortable cabin at the foot of the hill, making fre- 
quent excursions to the “great house" to see that 


304 MOLLY BKOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 

‘‘the niggers was ’memberin^ they places and that 
that there Ca'line wan't sleepin' out er season.” 

“Well, Miss Milly, it's jes’ this way: some folks 
is good slow cooks an' some is good quick cooks. 
Now Ca'line shines when slow patience is the 
needcessity. She is great on a biled dinner, where 
the 'gredients have to jes' simper along. You 
have her make a Brunswick stew an' you'll think 
she is the bes' cook in the county. Her yeas' 
bread is good 'cause that takes time and Ca'line 
is twins to whatsoever takes time; but ef you 
have a steak to brile or quick bis'it to cook, you 
jes sen' fer this ole woman, an' ef she can't crawl 
up the hill she kin ketch holt er President's tail 
an' he kin pull her up.'' 

Aunt Mary then busied herself clearing off the 
table, as her way of spending the day was to help 
her hostess in many ways. 

What a peaceful picture the orchard home pre- 
sents on this late summer morning! The little 
brown bungalow looks as though it had always 
been there. The trees are laden with apples. The 
fall cheeses are beginning to ripen, and the wine 
saps are so heavy that Edwin has proudly propped 
up the bending boughs. The quickly growing 
vines have done their best for the newly-wedded 


MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 305 


pair, and the slower ivy has begun to send out 
shoots that need daily training with matting tacks 
until they accustom themselves to sticking to the 
stone foundations. Molly’s porch boxes are filled 
with nasturtiums and petunias, and on each side 
of the steps are beds of scarlet sage. 

Her sister Sue drove over to the orchard as 
soon as the news came of Molly’s approaching 
wedding, and superintended the planting of many 
flowers to beautify the little home; and even stern 
old Aunt Clay unbent to the extent of lending her 
gardener to do the work. She had also donated 
a clump of Adam’s and Eve’s needles and threads 
that proved very decorative, but quite as unap- 
proachable as Aunt Clay herself. 

‘It is a splendid apple year,” remarked Mrs. 
Brown, her eyes wandering over the bountifully 
laden trees. “Do you know, Edwin, I believe you 
will realize enough off your wine saps and pippins 
to pay for all your furniture !” 

“It is all paid for, thank goodness!” laughed 
the young man. “But the apple money is to be 
put in the bank in Molly’s account.” 

“You remember when I went to college. 
Mother, you said I must win the three golden 


306 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 

apples. Don't you think apple money in the bank 
is a golden apple?" 

‘'Yes, my child, perhaps it is; but happiness is 
a bigger and more golden apple than money in 
the bank, and I believe you have gained happi- 
ness." 

“Indeed I have," said Molly blushing. “And 
now I am going to make a pie for my own hus- 
band; out of my own apples; off my own tree; in 
my own kitchen ; with my own hands ; and before 
I go, I am going to hug the old man who bought 
the orchard so I could go on with my college edu- 
cation." 

This time Edwin did not “bow his head and 
wait 'til the storm passed over him" as he had, 
according to Molly, in years gone by ; but he drew 
her down on the arm of his chair, and the making 
of the famous pie had to be postponed. 

The pie was finally made, though, and an ex- 
tra one to send over to Mother. Aunt Mary de- 
clared it was the “bestest I ever set gum in. I 
uster have a sweet tooth, but now I ain't go£ 
nothin' but a sweet gum; but my Molly Baby 
kin make sich good crus' th' ain't no need to 
chaw none." 

The old woman had been rather scornful of 


MOLLY BKOWN^S ORCHAKD HOME 307 

the method of making pastry that Molly had 
learned from the domestic science teacher at 
Wellington, but when the pie turned out such a 
success she was converted. 

''Yo* teacher is sho’ done drawd a prize cook. 
The two things what men folks think the mos’ 
of is the gal’s outsides an’ they own insides. The 
gal’s outsides is goin’ to change an’ fade; but ef 
she’s got sense ’nuf ter keep on a caterin’ ter his 
insides, the man ain’t a gwine ter notice the 
change. Ain’t that the truf ?” she asked Edwin 
as he came into the kitchen hunting his Molly. 

‘‘You know best. Aunt Mary. Certainly this 
pie would hide a multitude of wrinkles and even 
gray hair. But now. Aunt Mary, can’t you per- 
suade my wife to leave the kitchen long enough 
to come take a little walk with me ?” 

“Go long with him, chile. I reckon I can keep 
the bungleboo from fly in’ off while you an’ yo’ 
teacher takes a little ex’cise.” 

So Molly took off her cap and apron and, don- 
ning a shade hat, stepped joyfully out in the 
sunshine with her husband. They followed the 
little brook at the foot of the orchard, and climb- 
ing the fence, found themselves once more in 
the beechwoods. Both of them remembered the 


308 MOLLY BROWN’S ORCHARD HOME 


walk they had taken there together more than 
two years before, and with one accord they di- 
rected their footsteps to the great tree, the 
father of the forest, where they had sat on that 
memorable walk. 

‘‘ 'Of all the beautiful pictures 
That hang on Memory’s wall. 

Is one of a dim, old forest 
That seemeth the best of all.’ 

"Do you remember. Dearest, how you quoted 
that poem to me when we walked here before?” 
asked Edwin, drawing Molly to him. 

"Yes, I remember quite well,” said Molly. "I 
also remember what you said, but I am afraid it 
will make you conceited if I tell you. It is a long 
time to remember something that is not poetry.” 

"Please tell me. If I ever said anything that 
was worth remembering that long, you should 
encourage me by telling it to me.” 

"You said: 'A beautiful picture comes to my 
inward eye, and that is an old Molly with white 
hair sitting where you are now, still in the ro- 
mantic era, still in the beechwoods; and God 
willing. I’ll be beside you.’ I have thought of 


MOLLY BEOWN’S OKCHARD HOME 309 


those words very often, and when I wasn't cer- 
tain that you really cared for me, I would say 
to myself that you must have cared then." And 
Molly blushed. 

‘"Cared for you! I can't see how I ever kept 
from telling you that day. — It is best as it is. 
You were too young, but sometimes even now 
when I know you are mine, I tremble to think 
that I might have lost you by waiting." 

“There was never any real danger of that. 
If you had not cared, I was determined to be an 
old maid." And Molly gave a sigh of happiness 
as she nestled close to her “teacher." 


THE end. 















